Ignite
by mozie
Summary: When Maya's pregnant sister is reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games, Maya does the only thing that she can think of to save both her sister and her unborn child; she volunteers as tribute. But to Maya's horror, her older brother also volunteers, to protect her from the horrors of the Games. Maya knows that her survival must mean the death of her brother. Is her life really worth it?
1. A nightmare

**A nightmare**

I stare at the gallows, almost blinded by the tears that flow from my eyes. Sheb's hand is tight around my shoulder and I lean into him, wanting to bury my face in the harsh material of his work clothes. But I know that I mustn't. I mustn't look away. If I did then I would regret it for the rest of my life.

As the four traitors mount the steps, a hush falls over the assembled crowd and it feels ominous, so ominous that the Peacekeepers cock their guns and point them at random into the throng of people. One is trained straight for my head but I don't care; I don't even see it properly because my eyes are glued to the four figures on the platform above: My mother, my uncle and my grandfather and finally, my sister's twenty year old boyfriend.

The mayor steps forward and unrolls a piece of white paper marked with the Capitol seal. I don't listen to what he reads out; I don't care whether it's true or not, my eyes are just trained on my mother. A Peacekeeper steps forward and goes to put a bag over her head but she tells him no; that she'd rather see. It's this detail that causes me to leap forwards, to duck under the flimsy rope separating me from the steps. I barely make it five yards before I hear the gun go off and I feel the bullet entering between my shoulder blades.

I wake, my whole body taught with terror, not at the nightmare; this has become a nightly occurrence since my mother was publicly executed alongside my uncle and my grandfather. I am paralysed by the knowledge that in real life, I simply stood there; I didn't rush forwards to free her before the rope closed around her neck. I sigh and press myself closer to my sister, not for the warmth because it never gets particularly cold here in District Eleven but for comfort. Saffron's belly is swollen and huge in her eighth month of pregnancy. I feel a gentle kick and smile; the baby is awake too.

Three months ago my mother, uncle and grandfather were publicly executed in front of the Justice Building for initiating rebellion against the Capitol along with the father of Saff's baby. I have been told that they were the head of a rebel movement here in Eleven, and that this justified their execution. My father was publicly tortured at the whipping post in the square until his back was so scarred that he cannot stand upright any more. People say that the whipping combined to the loss of my mother has broken him but I like to believe that he is still in there somewhere even though he barely speaks any-more, barely eats, and rarely gets out of bed. It is my sister and my brother and I who work to bring in enough money to survive. The work is hard but it's better than school; when I am high up in the trees I feel free and I can almost forget what happened to my mother. It's harder in school, when all we do is sit in straight lines behind desks and learn about planting and field rotations and other similar things.

My first reaping. I push my feet out of the bed, shivering slightly as the cool morning air hits me. This is one of the colder months in District Eleven but it is still warm enough to wear only underclothes to bed. We received notification that we were to go to the square today. This gives an added element of suspense to an already stressful day. I'm told that the reaping system in District Eleven is more complicated than in the smaller Districts because the square can only hold a small fraction of the actual population. A week before the reaping, preliminary drawings will select the children and their families who will stand in the square. It is those children who will have their names in the reaping bowl on the actual day. Of course, every other child is also required to attend but they are herded into enclosures in nearby streets, safe in the knowledge that there is no chance of them going to the Capitol this year.

This year we are not so lucky. Although I know in my heart that there are still thousands upon thousands of slips in that giant glass bowl and perhaps only one name from our family may have been preliminary drawn and is in there, I am still nervous. So nervous that I know that even though having a lie in is a rare treat, I will not sleep again.

I pull on my usual working clothes; we are all required to dress as smartly as we are able for the ceremony later but I have a couple of hours before then. District Eleven is one of the farthest outlying Districts which means that our reaping will be held first, to give our tributes enough time to reach the Capitol. Of course, the reapings are staggered throughout the day so that the citizens of the Capitol can watch the whole thing live. As far as I am concerned, just attending one reaping once a year is enough to keep the horror alive.

Outside our little shack, I feel less anxious in the cool morning air. I pull on my old boots, the leather soles are peeling away from the uppers but I don't want to go barefoot; there are always bits of sharp metal and glass lying around and getting a cut foot is the last thing that I want; we can't afford to get medicine from the small apothecary and although I have picked up some knowledge of herbal remedies, finding the correct plants is always challenging; there are always others who are on the lookout for the same thing.

I find myself walking towards the lake. The lake is what we like to call in although in actual truth it is simply a large concrete reservoir filled with water that we haul to irrigate the cotton and crop fields. One of the small pleasures of living in this quarter of District Eleven is the lake; it is one of the few areas where the Peacekeepers show a little leniency and we are allowed to bathe here so long as we do not get in the way of the irrigation tanks filling up or the people filling buckets.

The lake is deserted; most people are taking advantage of a day off work to stay in bed so I have no qualms in slipping out of my clothes before diving naked under the water. How I would like to just sink under the surface and not have to come up until this day is over. I allow myself to sink into the murky depths of the water. I keep my eyes shut, enjoying the weightless feel of my body but all too soon I feel my lungs protesting for want of air and I strike out for the surface. When my head breaks out, I am surprised to see another face beside my own. We are so similar that she could be my reflection.

'Hi Rue,' my face breaks into a smile as I tread water beside her.

'I saw you walk past our shack, I called out but you didn't hear.'

'Sorry, I was… preoccupied…' My voice cracks on the last word and the smile slips back under the surface. Rue knows how hard this day is for me: My first ever reaping. 'How's Fern?' Fern is Rue's youngest sister and she has measles.

'Same as yesterday,' Rue answers, with a frown. I put a hand on her arm because I know how much she cares for her younger brother and sisters. It must be killing her to see Fern so ill. I shiver, suddenly remembering back to four years ago when we lost Beech, Rue's three year old brother to a fever.

'Tumeric root is supposed to help,' I suddenly say, remembering something I heard one of the workers telling another a year or so ago. I rack my brains to think of any other snapshots of information but nothing is forthcoming.

Rue and I have been friends for years now. When I was six months old, my father cut his leg with a scythe and infection set in, forcing my mother to return to work. My father was bedridden and in no condition to look after a baby and Sheb and Saff were both at school so Rue's mother offered to look after me. It was the spark that ignited the fire of our friendship. Rue and I both worked in the orchards since we were eight, collecting fruit from the highest branches. We aren't in the same year at school though because the years are split by when your birthday falls. If it is before reaping day then you are automatically sectioned into the year above, so although there are only three months between us, I am already eligible for the reaping while Rue is safe for another year.

'How are you feeling?' The abrupt change of topic takes me by surprise and I find myself swallowing down a strong desire to burst into tears.

'Yeah… worried…' I mutter, striking out for the concrete wall and hauling myself out before pulling on my clothes. I don't want to cry. Crying won't solve anything and it'll just make the reaping seem even more terrifying later on.

'I know,' Rue says simply as I extend a hand to pull her out of the water.

'It's so complicated,' I mutter, looking out towards the fields. It's the planting season so it's weird to see them empty of workers.

'What do you mean?' Rue places a hand on my shoulder and I turn to look at her; like me she is thin, too thin to be considered healthy. 'I know that I only have my name in there five times but Sheb and Saffy…' I trail off because it is too hard to continue. My brother and sister are seventeen and eighteen respectively and their names have been entered too many times to count and added to that my sister is pregnant so if her name gets drawn then it will be a murder two times over.

'There are still thousands of other slips…' I nod wearily and pull on my shoes.

'I know but I'm scared that the Capitol…' I don't finish because I can't say it out loud. This has been a banned topic in our household ever since my family was decimated. If I say it out loud then it will make it seem real: I am scared that the Capitol will want to make an example of us.

'Maya!' Grateful for the interruption, I turn to see my brother striding towards me and I smile because he is swinging a dead groosling by its neck in one of his hands. This will mean that we can have a decent meal when we get back this evening…_ if _we get back. I stop the train of thought as it comes to me.

'I thought that I'd find you here.' Sheb flings the groosling down onto the concrete lip of the lake and pulls off his shirt and trousers. As he dives into the water, his body forms a graceful ark and I can see the muscles in his chest rippling under his brown skin; for someone so underfed, Sheb is powerfully built and very strong, the years of toiling in the fields have left their mark. Sheb surfaces near the centre of the lake, shaking his head like a dog to get the water out of his eyes. He then does a lazy head over heals.

I feel something touch my upper arm and I turn to see that Rue is on her feet and dressed again.

'I ought to be getting back… Fern…' She doesn't finish but I can read the unspoken words in her eyes and I nod. 'Good luck later.' Rue pulls me into a brief hug.

'May the odds be ever in my favour,' I say, keeping my face as straight as possible.

When Sheb and I get back home, Saff has already put the grain on to cook for breakfast. Hot grain; a totally unappetizing brown mush but at least it fills you up.

'Here.' I hand over a bunch of water mint that I found growing out of the concrete on the lip of the lake and she adds it to the pot on the fire. Immediately, the mush starts to smell more appetizing and I am actually drooling by the time she ladles the food into four bowls.

'I'll take it in to Dad,' I say, stepping forwards because I can see that she is about to go into the next room. I am trying to get Saff to sit down, to take the weight of the baby off her feet. A week ago her ankles started to swell, making it hard for her to get around properly. The only herbal remedy that I can think of to help this is water cress but, so far, I've been unsuccessful in finding any.

Saff hands me the bowl and I take it through to the bedroom. Dad is still asleep; his face looks smooth and untroubled in the half-light that sneaks into the room round the cracks in the window shutter. I put the bowl of hot mush down onto the chest of draws that separates my dad and Sheb's bed with the one that I share with Saff. Mush, even mush flavoured with mint, is not worth waking up for. I slip quietly out of the room and take my place between my sister and brother to start on my own breakfast.

* * *

This fanfiction has been in my head for the best part of two years and this chapter has been on my laptop for a good three months. I hope you enjoy it. I don't know when it'll be updated, but hopefully it'll be soon. As always, please drop me a review or a PM to let me know what you think.


	2. Cloud burst

**Cloud burst**

The claxon blares out just as I tie the sash of my dress. Saff's hands are just finishing my hair; usually it sticks out on either side of my head in an un-tameable black frizz, but today she has braided it tightly to my scalp, before letting it fall in curls down to my shoulders. When I look in the mirror, I see that my face is exposed and this somehow makes me look a lot younger than twelve.

'It's time,' Sheb is standing in the open doorway with my father behind him. I notice that my father is wearing the same clothes that he has worn for the past three days and quickly avert my eyes. 'You look great Maya.' Sheb's eyes travel across to my sister who pulls self-consciously at her own reaping outfit; her stomach strains against the shirt.

'I can't get it to fit…' She gives up and straitens up, massaging her lower back.

'I'll get you a pin,' I'm trying to keep my voice from shaking but I am not successful and I feel Saff's arms go around me.

'It's okay Maya; you'll be fine…' She trails off, and I know why; she can't promise me that I will be fine. She can't promise because of those five slips of paper that have _Maya Stone_ carefully written on them in my neatest handwriting. She can't promise me that I won't lose my sister or my brother today...

The claxon howls again as we leave the shack, pulling the door shut behind us. Nobody in District Eleven ever locks their doors because we know the cost of stealing. If you are caught then you are shot. It doesn't matter whether you steal a pin or a casket of jewels. You are still shot. So nobody bothers to lock their doors because we know that nobody will enter our home in our absence.

My steps falter as we approach the square and I am suddenly overcome with terror; the Peacekeepers have set up a long row of tables in the nearby streets and they are sat behind them cataloguing the population of District Eleven. There are fifty or so of them facing us, each Peacekeeper wears identical white body armour and a helmet with a visor that covers his or her face. It's creepy, almost otherworldly, and I can feel myself trembling. Cold sweat prickles under my armpits and I reach for Saffy's hand.

Short queues of adults and children are forming in front of each Peacekeeper; everybody is required to give a blood sample to sign in, it's the way of the Capitol to keep tabs on the population of each District. Everyone is required, by law, to attend, unless you are literally on your death bed. They actually enforce this too; last year one of our neighbours stayed home to nurse her sick five year old. Later that day, just when we thought that the drama was over, she was dragged from her house and given twenty lashes at the whipping post. My eyes smart as I remember; the woman died four weeks later after sepsis set in.

'It's just a little prick,' Sheb murmurs, seeing the brightness in my eyes and incorrectly assuming that I am scared of the needle. I nod because I know that he is right; I've had my finger pricked at the reaping every year since before I can remember and also because there's no point trying to explain that just seeing the tables dragged me back into last year's tragedy. Anyway, I _am_ scared; there's just something so undeniably terrifying about knowing that this year you are eligible and that your blood sample will confirm this. That this year it could be you, being carted off to the Capitol.

As soon as the four of us have signed in, we walk into the square. I suck at my finger to stop it from bleeding on my reaping clothes, the rust and salt of the blood almost makes me gag and I stop; getting a small amount of blood on me is better than puking all over myself. We leave my father with the other adults from the unfortunate families who are selected to stand in the square; they stand around three of the edges, looking terrified and anxious. Their children stand in roped off sections in the centre of the square, penned in by ages. The sight of so many children, corralled like animals sets my knees trembling again.

'Go stand over there with the little ones, we'll find you after.' My sister gives me a tight hug. Through the double layer of shirts, I feel a faint kick. Saff winces and rubs at her belly. 'Little monster,' she murmurs and I try to smile in response but it comes out more like a snarl.

'You'll be fine Sissy,' Sheb lifts me off the ground in a bear hug, before placing me back on my feet and lifting the rope to let me into my designated pen, as if I was a lady. There's no need for the other children to move up to make room; we are early and the pens aren't even three quarter's full yet. I grasp the rope tightly in my fists as I watch my brother and sister walking towards the podium. When they reach the section for the seventeen year olds, they hug and then Sheb ducks under the rope. They hug again, this time with the rope between them. Then my sister turns away and Sheb's hands fall back to his sides. I suddenly find myself swallowing down tears again and look up to the sky, tilting my face so that any tears will disappear into my hairline and won't role down my cheeks.

The twenty minute wait until the start of the reaping flies by. If it wasn't for the clock on the wall above the podium I would think that we were later than we meant to be in leaving the house this morning. I am still staring up at the sky, wondering if it's going to rain because the clouds seem to be gathering above us. It generally rains on reaping day; in my heart I know that it is because it is the wet season here in District Eleven but sometimes I think that the sky is crying with us.

'Welcome to the seventy third annual Hunger Games!' I jump and look towards the podium to see that the chairs have been filled while I was looking up at the clouds. Aelia Tiara, District Eleven's escort from the Capitol, and two of our living victors fill three of them. The fourth is for Mayor Silverhorn who has stepped up to the microphone. Mayor Silverhorn is ancient; wrinkled and decrepit, he must be the oldest person in the District because nobody else, even Merchant class, ever live as long. He is almost totally bald, but the top of his head is covered with brown liver spots which gives the illusion of hair. There was a rumour, back when I was tiny, that the Capitol has offered him retirement but he has turned it down. I don't know whether or not it is true.

Mayor Silverhorn clears his throat ostentatiously and removes scroll of white paper, marked with the Capitol seal, from the breast pocket of his suit. As he unrolls it, I am suddenly thrown back into this morning's nightmare and I automatically shut my ears to what he is saying, not paying him any attention until he begins to read out the list of District Eleven's previous victors. In seventy three years, we have had precisely three, two of which are still alive. Chaff, a balding, dark skinned man in his late forties smiles good-naturedly as he is introduced but doesn't stand. I suspect that he is slightly intoxicated; every year we see him passing a bottle back and forth with some of the other mentors. Victors Village is a good three quarters of an hour's walk from where I live, so I have never seen either victor outside of public events like the reaping. The second victor is a tall, olive skinned woman in her early sixties; Seeder. Her bright eyes carefully scan the crowd of assembled children as if she is wondering which two she will be forced to mentor this year as she stands gracefully and gives a small bow.

'And now, I would like to introduce your one and only escort, Aelia Tiara!' The mayor says with a positively forced brightness, clapping his hands together excitedly. I don't know whether he is expecting us to join in but nobody does and the loan claps echo away into a silence that seems to press on my eardrums. Two bright pink patches appear on his withered cheeks.

Aelia Tiara looks as strange as ever. Her hair is a metallic bronze and is piled on the top of her head in a beehive. Underneath this monstrosity, her face is completely covered with white powder, which contrasts starkly with her full red lips and rouged cheeks. Her clothes are straight from the Capitol; a bright pink suit covered with golden stars and startling orange high heels. However, her most striking feature is that the whites of her eyes are tattooed an unholy electric blue.

'Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!' Aelia Tiara actually seems genuinely pleased to be here which is an improvement on last year when she spent the whole time staring up at the sky as if daring it to rain. Anyhow, it makes one happy person in the several thousand that populate this square at least.

'The time has come to select one courageous young man and woman to be your tributes in the seventy third annual Hunger Games!' She totters over to the first giant glass ball which I know must contain the girls' names and plunges her hand deep inside. 'As usual, ladies first!' It seems to take her an age to select a paper. Nobody seems to be breathing, we are all waiting with bated breath; wishing that she gets a move on with the selection but also wishing simultaneously that her hand continues to rummage.

I suddenly find that my body is slick with sweat and my hands are trembling in anticipation. I am so desperately hoping that it isn't me. That it isn't Saff… Aelia Tiara finally catches hold of a paper and whips it out of the bowl before tottering back over to the microphone. The wait while she unrolls it is both agonizingly long and painfully short.

'The female tribute from District Eleven is…' She pauses as if for dramatic effect and I cross my fingers together in my pockets, desperately wishing that it isn't me. That it isn't Saff. '…is Saffron Stone.'

It's as if time slows down; a million thoughts cascade through my head. Feelings of horror, denial, terror and finally acceptance as I am thrown back into reality. I am frozen with shock, unable to move or to speak or even to breathe. I can't see Saff; twelve year olds are penned near the back of the square and I am short for my age, but even so I can hear the unhappy mutterings of the crowd. And then I can see my sister as she mounts the steps leading up to the podium. The mutterings swell in a crescendo as the crowd see her clearly for the first time; she is side on to us, her swollen belly clearly straining against her shirt and everyone can now fully understand the horror of the situation; the female tribute is pregnant. Saff visibly trembles as she reaches the top of the steps, her head hangs and I can see the tears gleaming on her cheeks. Her arms protectively circle her belly, as if to emphasise its existence. The crowd swells with rage as Aelia Tiara steps forward to greet Saff. For once, even she seems to be struck dumb as she grasps Saff's hand and pumps it up and down.

My limbs unfreeze and I step forward, ducking under the rope.

'Saff!' The strangled cry leaves my mouth as I sprint towards the podium, towards my sister. A Peacekeeper steps forward to intercept me, his cold alien stare distracting me for a microsecond before I duck under his outstretched hand. Another hand closes tightly around my upper arm, dragging me to a halt. Caught off balance I fall heavily, scraping my shin on the concrete. I scramble to my feet.

'No! Saffy! You can't! I volunteer as tribute!' Silence falls. The crowd, the children, the Peacekeepers, everybody seems to be holding their breath. I pull my arm out of the gloved hand that holds it and step forwards purposefully, tilting my chin up defiantly.

'I volunteer as tribute!' A single raindrop falls from the sky, landing on my upturned forehead and the spell is broken.

'I… I believe that we have a volunteer!' If the situation wasn't so severe, if it wasn't _me_ then I would probably roll my eyes; Capitol rats so love stating the obvious.

'Maya, you can't!' Saff's voice is choked with tears but I can hear the relief soaking through it too, however hard she tries to hold it in. I step forwards, trying to appear calm and collected although I am trembling worse with every step. What have I done? As the question forms in my mind I answer it; I have signed my own death warrant. Is it worth it? I stare up at Saff's pregnant belly; a million times over.

'Maya, please…' I don't speak until I have mounted the podium to stand beside her. Then, slowly and deliberately I place my hand on her belly, looking up into her wide, fearful eyes; brown eyes like mine that we both inherited from our mum.

'You can't stop me, Saffron,' my voice shakes but even so, I turn to Aelia Tiara. 'My name is Maya Stone and I volunteer.'

'And I bet that is your sister!' Aelia Tiara trills, pointing totally unnecessarily towards Saff. I nod, trying not mind as a Peacekeeper takes Saff by the arm and drags her away from me, back down the steps, pushing her back into the eighteen year old pen. Aelia Tiara steps forwards and pulls me to the microphone. 'Let's have a big hand for District Eleven's youngest volunteer; Maya Stone!' She releases me so that she can start the 'big hand'. Once again nobody claps; my people stand in silence, staring defiantly at the podium. And then, just when I think that Aelia will break it, I hear a child's voice raised in song; Rue, my best friend. The two of us have always loved music.

Farewell to thee, farewell to thee

Thou charming one who dwells in shaded bowers

One fond embrace ere you depart

Until we meet again.

Her meaning could not be clearer and I feel a tear tracking its way down my cheek. The rain starts to drizzle, mingling with my tears.

'Okay... well…' Aelia Tiara is clearly trying to regain control of the situation, either that or she doesn't want to stand out here in the rain any longer than is necessary in case her makeup runs. '…now for the boys.' She crosses over to the other glass bowl but before she can select a slip, a clear voice rings out from the crowd.

'I volunteer as tribute!' And I fall to my knees, because I would know that voice anywhere. As Sheb mounts the podium, I bury my face in my hands and take deep breaths. Collapsing won't win me any favours with the sponsors but I'm too far gone to care about that. A Peacekeeper hauls me to my feet, holding me upright as my legs bend like a rag doll's. Aelia steps forward to introduce the new volunteer but Sheb doesn't take her offered hand. Instead he turns away from her to stare defiantly at the crowd. He is nowhere near the microphone but his voice booms out, reaching even the farthest corners of the square.

'My name is Shebastin Stone. Maya is my little sister, and I am volunteering for the Games to protect her. I will protect her with my life.' A ringing silence follows his speech, stretching on and on until a clap of thunder peels out around us and the clouds burst above our heads.

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Thank you for my two reviews so far. Reviews inspire me to write as always so here is chapter two for you.


	3. Anger

**Anger**

We are all soaked to the skin by the time that Mayor Silverhorn has read out the long treaty of treason and the anthem of Panem has been played. The words of the anthem reverberate round my head, bouncing off the inside of my skull. Rain runs down my face, mingling with the salt of my tears.

_Oh Horn of Plenty,_

_Oh Horn of Plenty for us all!_

_And when you raise the cry_

_The brave shall heed the call_

_And we shall never falter._

The sheer unfairness of the opening lines hits me like a punch to the gut; there is no horn of plenty, not for the Districts at any rate.

Sheb and I are led into the Justice building and left in a room together. I suppose that the tributes are normally left in separate rooms so that they can say their goodbyes to the people they love in private but, for the first time in the history of the Games, a brother and sister have been reaped the same year and they seem to have made an exception. I round on my brother the second that the door swings shut.

'What the hell were you playing at?' All the anger and fear of the past twenty minutes comes bubbling up out of my mouth and I suddenly find myself screaming at him. 'I volunteer to keep my sister and her baby alive only to have you throw it back in my face!' Tears stream down my cheeks and I can feel myself trembling violently.

'Maya… I…'

'No!' I interrupt, taking a step forwards and drawing myself up to my full height. I tilt my head so that I can look him in the eye. 'How are Dad and Saff and the baby supposed to live now?' I demand.

'Maya stop!' My anger overspills and I close the distance between us with one leap and start hitting every part of him that I can reach. I don't care that this is technically illegal now that we are both tributes. I don't care that this is the first time in my life that I have ever hit either of my siblings. I don't even care that now, more than ever, is the time when we should be sticking together and not fighting. Sheb grabs my hands easily and forces them up above my head, pushing me away from him. To my surprise, I can see that he is smiling.

'We'll make a fighter of you yet.' Sheb releases my hands and they drop to my sides as I take an uncertain step backwards.

'You, you think that's funny?' My voice still trembles but some of the anger is gone now.

'Maya, let me explain.'

'I don't want to hear it!' I say fiercely, although I know that I am lying and I can see that Sheb knows it too.

'Maya sit down.' Sheb steps forwards and pulls me down onto a velvet sofa and, for the first time, I look round the room we are in, grasping around in my mind for a word to describe it. It is so different from anything that I have ever experienced before that it takes me several seconds to find the right word: _Sumptuous_; the carpet and the curtains are a deep cherry red and made of the same velvet material as the chairs, which are a lighter shade of red. I feel an odd yearning to bury my face in the softness and to let it soak up my tears until I am as dried up as the shrivelled, desiccated apricots that are sold in the market and that we can never afford.

'I know why you volunteered Maya.' Sheb says quietly, evidently sensing that the plush surroundings have had a calming effect on my anger. 'You volunteered because you couldn't bear to see Saff and the baby suffer in those horrific Games.' Sheb pauses and I nod in reply because my throat is too tight to speak.

'So what if I feel the same way, Maya? What if I'd rather die than watch you face the horrors of the Games alone? What if I am willing to sacrifice my own life to make sure that you make it back home? What you did was brave and selfless and you deserve to live. You're only twelve; it's sick, it's wrong…' I place a hand on Sheb's arm, trying to stem the outburst; we are in the Justice building and the walls are probably laced with hidden microphones. We are about to be carted off to the Capitol and after that to the Games where we will be more at their mercy than ever before.

'What you did was just as brave.' I say quietly. And then I am in Sheb's arms, crying uncontrollably into his shirt.

That's how my sister and father find us when they are shown in by a Peacekeeper to say their goodbyes. My father, stooped and broken, remains standing by the door but Saff immediately takes my place on the sofa and pulls me onto her lap. There's barely room for me now that her bump is so large. Her arms encircle me and her lips brush the top of my head as she speaks.

'Maya, I don't know what to say…' The honesty of her statement takes me aback and I lean outwards so that I can look up into her face; her eyes are full of unshed tears. 'On one side I am so, so very thankful to you but I'm also so angry. I hate that you were forced into this! You're too young… just a child!' Saff stands up suddenly, tipping me onto the velvet carpet.

'It's so wrong; you should have a chance to live! I…'

'That's enough Saffron,' I look up in surprise; my father has stepped forwards. A single shaft of sunlight has broken through the thick clouds and it streams through the glass pane of the window, illuminating his face. For the first time since my mother's death I see a shadow of the man that we lost.

'Now is not the time to provoke the Capitol, not when your brother and sister are about to participate in the Games.' I am amazed to see authority outlining his features, breaking through the crushing defeat and sadness that prematurely line his face. Saff sags in defeat, sinking back onto the sofa and biting her lip to try and stop the tears. I stand up and cross over to her, sinking down on the arm of the sofa. My hands stoke her hair gently.

The brief return of my father has ended and he turns away muttering to himself and leaving the three of us staring at him in astonishment; for a few seconds he was really here, the father that I remember was back.

'There's one thing…' My sister breaks our silence and reaches round to the back of her neck for the clasp of our mother's locket. It is the one precious thing that we own, our only family heirloom. '...I want you both to have this.' The silver locket swings as she places it in Sheb's outstretched hand and as she lets it go the thin silver chain pools around the engraved letters: _RAC_; Rowan Alice Coppicewood, our maternal great-grandmother. Sheb flicks open the catch with his thumb, pushing the two halves apart on the stiff silver hinge to reveal the two familiar photographs. The first is of my mother and father on their wedding day. The second is one of the three of us. I am tiny at six and sitting on my sister's lap while an eleven year old Sheb pulls a silly face behind us. I smile as I remember how cross my parents were when they realised that he had ruined the photo.

'This way we'll all be with you in the arena,' my sister says tearfully.

The rest of the allotted hour passes far too quickly and the Peacekeeper returns to escort my sister and father out. I throw my arms around my father's waist, squeezing him tightly. His arms tighten briefly in return before he steps back and ducks out of the room, meekly obeying the Peacekeeper. My sister is less obliging; she encloses the two of us in her arms, telling us to take care of each other and that she loves us. In the end, the Peacekeeper is forced to drag her away.

Rue is the only other person to bid us goodbye; when my mother and grandfather were publicly condemned, many of our friends and their families decided that our friendship was too risky. Rue is one of the only friends that stood by my side throughout all the terrible proceedings and I know that any of Sheb's remaining friends would've been forced to return to the planting immediately after the reaping was over and are therefore unable to bid him goodbye.

'You've got two minutes,' the Peacekeeper warns us as he pulls the door shut. Neither of us speak for a couple of seconds but then Rue steps forwards and hands me a roughly wrapped parcel done up in brown paper and string. When I open it I find a grass necklace with a small roughly carved star charm hanging off it.

'It's a good luck charm,' Rue explains, pulling it over my head. 'Will you wear it in the arena?' I nod and glance at Sheb; he's already tucked the locket out of sight under his shirt. Rue pulls me into a tight hug before stepping back and looking fiercely at the two of us.

'You're stronger than they are; together you can beat them all!' And then the Peacekeeper is back and is ordering her out. He goes to take her arm, evidently not wanting to risk another repeat of my sister's performance, but Rue calmly lifts his hand off and walks out with her head held high.

The ride to the station is a short one. I suppose that I should be excited about travelling in a car – the seats are upholstered in smooth, creamy leather and the engine is a quiet hum in the background. The car glides over the rough dirt roads, so smoothly that it almost seems as if we are floating. Even so, I can't say that I feel anything but sadness and anger. When we reach the station we step out into a sea of reporters. It's a relief when we are finally allowed to get on the train and the door slides shut behind us, leaving them outside. Even so, I swallow down a sense of claustrophobia; I know that the door will not open again until we reach the Capitol.

As the train starts to move, Aelia tries to lead me further in but I shake my head and remain standing by the window, watching as we glide by the orchards where I work, the crop fields where my people have resumed the planting and finally the electric fence, peppered with the guard towers that stand tall and imposing in a field of wild plants. I know that in a few months' time the field will be a sea of colour and I wonder if I will ever see its beauty again.

Once we are outside the fence, the train picks up speed, until it seems as if we are flying through the countryside. I can no longer see our close surroundings – they have blurred into an unbroken line of green and brown but further away, I can see a wide forest and a few mountains. I stay frozen at the window, drinking in the view until Aelia returns and I finally give in to her and let her lead me to a luxurious set of rooms.

'Lovely isn't it?' Aelia has mistaken my horror as admiration; my train quarters include a large sleeping area, and I can see an equally large dressing area and a magnificent bathroom through two open doors leading off on either side of the room. The whole lavish set up totals a larger area than my entire family's shack.

'Clean yourself up; lunch is in thirty minutes.'

I am tempted to ignore this request; I can't help but feel that I am prettying myself up for the slaughter but my curiosity finally gets the better of me and I move further into the room, opening drawers and running my finger over the clothes inside which are made of every possible material in every shade of colour imaginable. When I lift up a soft orange dress, I can't help but be amazed; I know without trying it on that it will fit perfectly. Do they have a whole carriage full of clothes all in different sizes to make sure that they can stock up the tributes' rooms with stuff of the correct size? The thought disgusts me when I think back to some of the families in District Eleven who can barely afford to put rags on their children's backs.

Feeling slightly sickened, I don't bother looking through any more of the drawers. I just pick out some clean underwear and, with the orange dress over my arm, I walk into the adjoining bathroom. A silver gadget on the wall draws my attention immediately; a silver pipe runs up to an upside down sprinkler, the sort of thing that we use to water delicate seedlings that have only just germinated. I make the mistake of turning the nob and I am immediately deluged in hot soapy water. It doesn't matter because my clothes were still damp from the rain storm earlier so I strip them off and stand naked under the jet, not bothering to wash myself because the shower seems perfectly capable of doing that on its own and, besides, I'm not dirty; this morning I went for a swim in the lake. It seems like years rather than hours ago and I am suddenly jabbed by a fierce sense of longing and sadness. It takes me some time to realise that I am already homesick.

Aelia fetches me for lunch, complementing me on my choice of outfit. I grimace in reply; I am still too angry to exchange pleasant niceties with Capitol rats. Aelia doesn't seem to notice; she prattles on about how it will take us just over twenty four hours to reach the Capitol because we are travelling so fast. I grimace again at the thought; I don't know which is more awful, being trapped on the train with Aelia for the next day, or actually arriving in the Capitol where more horrors surely await.

Sheb is waiting for us in the dining carriage and I am amazed by how well groomed he looks in a simply cut cream coloured suit.

'So we have a big big afternoon ahead of us.' Aelia says excitedly, as the first course of the meal is served; a clear green broth that exudes aromas of asparagus and onion. For one brief second I try to imagine what life must be like from her point of view but the taste of the soup immediately takes my mind off everything else. As the first spoonful glides down my throat I suppress a groan of pleasure.

'First we will have lunch and then I will introduce you both to your mentors so that you can start discussing tactics. That's Seeder and Chaff.' She adds unnecessarily. Neither Sheb nor I respond; we are too busy with the food. 'After that, we will all have dinner together and then this evening we will watch the recap of the reapings so that you can see which lucky children you will be up against...' I role my eyes at Sheb before returning to my soup although Aelia doesn't notice and continues to talk. '...and then you must get to bed; we have another big big day tomorrow…' She somehow manages to sustain this deadly monologue throughout the next three courses; after the soup comes a thick chicken stew with tiny potatoes swimming in butter, a salad with bitter greens and sweet tomatoes and red peppers, and finally something that Aelia calls 'ice cream' and a chocolate sponge. Although Aelia keeps on reminding us that there is more to come, I can't seem to slow down; the food is so delicious, so unlike anything in my wildest dreams that I am stuffing myself.

When the dishes from the last course are finally cleared, I lean back in my chair, feeling slightly nauseous; perhaps I overdid it slightly. Aelia doesn't seem to want to risk either of us vomiting on the plush carpet because she instructs us to lie down for an hour. She assures us that she will wake us in time for our meeting with our mentors. Once I am back in my suite, I kick off the orange flats that I chose to accompany my dress, and fall fully-clothed onto the bed. I sink into the soft mattress, luxuriously stretching out every part of my body until my joints pop. The combined exhaustion from the morning's drama and my overfull stomach mean that I am unconscious in minutes.

* * *

Thanks for my reviews so far.

Julianna Ros - I think we can safely assume that a pregnant tribute would be forced to compete. The Capitol don't seem to make exceptions and if they did I imagine that many of the older girls would get pregnant to get out of the Games.


	4. A Capitol welcome

**A Capitol welcome**

When I wake, I feel as if I've been asleep for a lot longer than one hour. I push my legs off the bed and stand up, relieved to find that I am no longer uncomfortably full although I'm far from wanting food. Outside the window of my sleeping compartment, the sun is setting, streaking the sky with fire and I realise that Aelia Tiara has indeed left me quite a bit longer than the designated hour. Somewhat puzzled, I quickly use the bathroom before making my way back to the room where we ate lunch.

I'm slightly hurt to see that Sheb is deep in discussion with Chaff and Seeder. He smiles as I approach and beckons me into a chair opposite. I can't help but feel as if I'm being scrutinised by our mentors as I sit down and it makes me feel nervous.

'Why didn't you wake me?' I ask uncomfortably.

'It wasn't necessary; we had a lot to discuss,' Sheb begins airily.

'What sort of things,' I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly.

'Tactics and things like that…' Boiling hot anger rips through me and I am suddenly on my feet with no recollection of ever standing up.

'And you didn't think that I might want to be a part of that conversation?' I am surprised by how steady my voice is.

'Maya, I'll protect…'

'I may only be twelve and I may be your sister but in case you haven't noticed I am also your fellow tribute! I know that you'll be there for me in the arena but don't you think that I deserve to be a part of these conversations? I'm going to be thrown into the arena and I need to know how to protect myself!'

'Come and sit down and relax. There's no need to make a scene.' I turn to Chaff, a defiant comment on the tip of my tongue. I am slightly surprised to see that he looks significantly better groomed than he did at the reaping although he has removed the tie that someone, (presumably Aelia), has forced him into and has tied it around his head. I don't know whether this is a gesture of fun or simply rebellion against Aelia but it makes me swallow down my angry words.

Chaff smiles good-naturedly at me before belching loudly. Alcohol fumes fill the air and I take a step backwards, feeling slightly sickened. Chaff takes another large swig of whatever is in his crystal goblet. The action looks wrong with something so dainty; the thin fragile stem of the glass looks so delicate that it seems that any action other than tiny sips would leave you holding a pile of glass shards. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to keep my anger in check and I turn back to Sheb. However, before I can speak, I hear Seeder's quiet voice.

'I think that your sister has a point Shebastin. Maya may only be twelve and you may be desperate to prevent any harm from coming to her but she is still about to be thrown into the arena. Sit down, Maya.' I sink uncertainly back into the chair and she turns back to Sheb, seemingly continuing as if I hadn't interrupted their conversation.

'They won't have scythes, Shebastin, but you could try your hand with a curved sword.' She removes a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and the stub of a pencil. For some seconds we watch as she roughly sketches the weapon. 'You want to try the double edged one...' she says, handing the paper to Sheb. '...technique isn't so important with those.'

'So Maya, do you have any talents?' Chaff asks, with a small, yet patronising, smile. He places his goblet on the table before removing a small hip flask from his pocket. For the first time I see the round, shiny stump of his arm close up and remember that he lost a hand in his Games nearly thirty years ago. Chaff is completely oblivious to my staring; he simply pours a generous measure of clear alcohol into his goblet, before replacing the hip flask into his pocket and picking up the goblet. I watch as a single bead of liquor escapes over the lip of the glass. It runs down the stem, narrowly missing Chaff's fat fingers, and down over the base before trembling on the edge. Whatever it is, it's strong, and it makes my stomach turn from five paces away.

'So, any fighting skills?' This time the laughter is barely concealed and I have to swallow down my anger again. I consider the question for a few seconds; do I have any skills that could help me to stay alive in the arena?

'Maya can fly through the trees,' Sheb says, before I have even opened my mouth. 'She's also brilliant at identifying plants for eating and for medicine, better than anyone else I know. Oh and she can make a fire just about anywhere and without matches.'

'Good, all these skills will be useful in the arena.' Seeder says quietly, nodding gently at Sheb before turning to me. 'Do you have any defensive skills, anything at all?' I am about to shake my head when I suddenly remember something; of course it's not an actual fighting skill as the opportunities to handle weapons are all but non-existent in District Eleven but sometimes, when a piece of fruit is out of reach, I have been known to throw a knife to cut the stem and allow it to fall into the waiting hands of one of the workers below. I'm not too bad actually; throwing a knife accurately from a thin branch twenty feet above the ground is actually quite hard.

'I can throw knives with some degree of accuracy…' I begin.

'Of course Maya, how could I forget that?' Sheb interrupts enthusiastically.

'Show us then,' the patronising tone is back in Chaff's voice and for half a second I consider refusing the dinner knife that he is offering me but then I realise that this is probably the one opportunity that I will be given to make an impression on my two mentors, to make them realise that I am worth including in their tactical discussions.

The knife is surprisingly sharp and heavy for something used for cutting up food, especially considering that the Capitol would never serve up anything tough enough to need such manhandling. I weigh it in my hand for a few seconds, looking round the room for a suitable target before settling for the crystal chandelier directly above Chaff's head.

The knife leaves my hand like a streak of lightning. It cuts straight through the flimsy metal chain linking one of the tear-drop crystals before continuing its trajectory and ending up lodged in the wall above Chaff's head. I see the crystal falling as if in slow motion. It lands in Chaff's goblet, sending shards of glass and crystal and drops of liquor in every direction.

To say that Aelia Tiara is displeased with our experimentation is the understatement of the century; it is just unlucky that she chose to walk into the room the same moment as Chaff's goblet smashes and she keeps up a constant stream of hissed obscenities and reprimands throughout dinner. It doesn't make any impression on me; the food is just as incredible as it was at lunch time, a thick, red carrot and tomato soup with crusty bread, followed by roast lamb and miniature vegetables swimming in butter, cheese and fruit and finally a tart made with summer fruits with mounds of whipped cream.

After dinner, we go into another compartment which has a giant screen mounted on one wall and two large velvet sofas facing it with three matching armchairs in between. I curl up in an armchair, my arms crossed over my overfull stomach. One by one, we watch the other reapings. I know that I should be paying close attention but many of the tributes seem so similar that it is hard to distinguish between them; they are simply pale, underfed children, terrified about what they are about to experience. Only a few seem to make an impression on me; a tall auburn haired girl from District One who steps forward gracefully to volunteer before another name is picked. Her name is Ruby and I wonder briefly if her parents chose her name because of her stunning hair. The other career tributes are equally imposing but none of them make as much impression on me as the girl tribute from District Nine; a small fifteen year old called Maisie. As she stumbles up to the podium, the cameras find her face and I gasp; her unseeing eyes are white and milky. In my opinion, putting a blind girl into the arena seems equally horrific as putting in a pregnant girl. I stop the thought as it arises because I seem to be accepting the Capitol's decision to put any children into the arena and it's all horrific, it's all barbaric...

Once the recap is finished, Aelia hustles us to bed, reminding us that we have a 'big, big day tomorrow'. Sheb hugs me outside my cabin but he doesn't speak until Aelia has left us alone.

'I'm sorry about earlier, Maya; it was stupid of me. After what you did for Saff, you deserved better and I promise that we'll act like a team now.' Somehow, his words don't seem to comfort me like they should and the knot of fear inside my stomach tightens uncomfortably.

'I'm scared Sheb,' I admit, tears suddenly starting in my eyes; I seem to be on a roller-coaster of emotion today; fear, anger, sadness, more anger, more fear… it seems to be never-ending.

'So am I,' Sheb's arms squeeze me tightly. 'We just have to be strong, Maya; together we might have a chance of survival. And it starts now; we need to eat and gain weight and tomorrow we have to do what Seeder says.' I grimace; Seeder has made us promise to cooperate with out prep teams, whatever they decide to do to us. The thought is repellent; I have no wish to cooperate with the people who are about to dress me up ready for the kill.

'Together we have a chance of survival Maya.' Sheb squeezes me again before turning back down the corridor. I take a step backwards and give the sliding door of my compartment a shove. I don't answer him until the door has shut between us, forming a barrier to block out my whisper.

'But there is no _together_. Only one of us can survive this.' The whisper bounces off the closed door to reverberate around the inside of my skull. I cross over to the bed and sink down on it, trying to stop the tears; I must have cried enough to fill the lake today, or at least a small bathtub. I stare down at the orange dress; it's slightly crinkled from my sleeping in it earlier and I seem to have spilt some of the red soup down the front. My hands automatically start picking at one of the seams as I try to order my thoughts. I don't feel bad about ruining the dress in the same way as I didn't feel bad for destroying the chandelier in the dining carriage; instead I feel satisfaction, like this is a small act of defiance, to ruin something made for the Capitol in the same way as they have ruined my life.

The compartment door slides open again but I don't look up in case it's Sheb; I don't want him to see me in tears again today because I know that he won't be able to bear it and if he cries too then there's a good chance that I won't be able to stop; they'll have to sedate me in the same way as they had to sedate that victor, Joanna Mason, from a few years back; she faked hysteria at the tribute interviews to appear weak and cowardly. It worked too; nobody bothered to go after her for weeks into the Games and by the time they did, it was too late; she'd already got herself an axe and she was more than able to use it.

'I know how you feel.' I look up in surprise because it's Seeder and not Sheb who has entered my compartment. I want to shout at her because how can she 'know how I feel' but I feel the anger ebbing away and I am suddenly trying to contain irrepressible sobs.

'How can you?' I demand, dropping my eyes back to the seam of the dress. My fingers continue to demolish it, piece by piece.

'You're afraid and you're angry.' The simplicity of Seeder's words add fuel to the fire inside me; two small, two-syllable words that can barely describe the emotions that are raging through my body and mind.

'And I know that those two words do nothing to sum up how you are feeling at the moment, Maya.' I look up, slightly surprised that Seeder isn't as clueless as I first thought…

'I'm…' I struggle to find the right words. 'I… he… I _understand _why Sheb volunteered… I _am_ angry but…' The sobs are starting to choke me and my voice is becoming slightly hysterical. 'How can I live with it?' I demand suddenly, looking up into Seeder's golden eyes. 'How can I fight to win when I know that winning means the death of my brother? How can anyone?'

'I don't know what to say.' The fact that Seeder hasn't tried to comfort me actually comes as a relief and I find my tears slowing.

'Sheb has sworn to protect me with his life, but what if I don't want life if he doesn't live too?'

'Maya, your brother was clear from the start that he is not planning on making it home. I don't believe that anything will change his mind.' Seeder says quietly. She sits down on the velvet armchair by the head of my bed and runs a gentle hand through my hair. I suppress a sob but instead of pulling away, I find myself leaning into her embrace; I haven't been hugged by a woman since my mother was killed.

'Maybe, between your brother, Chaff and I and your own skills, we can bring you home. Think about it Maya.' She stands up and walks out of the compartment, leaving me alone with my tears.

* * *

'Well at least we didn't have to wrestle this one from her clothes,' one of my prep team says brightly, fiddling with my hair as I lie up to my chin in sweet smelling bubbles. I can't tell whether she/he is a woman or a man – so I settle for calling it 'it'. It is called Syria and has a bright shock of orange and blue hair tumbling in waves halfway to the floor. The other two members of my prep team are a woman called Mairead, who has purple tattoos covering every visible part of her skin, and a man named Hero who has about a hundred body piercings. They are in the process of choosing between a rainbow of little soaps that are shaped like hearts and stars. When they have finally chosen, Hero throws a handful of them into the bathwater and they sizzle and dissolve, leaving a frothy layer of pink and blue. Bubbles pop around me like little fireworks bringing samples of cinnamon, apple blossom and what I imagine real roses must smell like.

They've been at it for hours and I feel totally exhausted. First came a bath and a gritty foam ex-foliation to rid my skin of dirt and a few layers of skin. Then came the torture of ridding my body of hair, which I have to admit felt totally unnecessary as I had very little of it to begin with; I am only twelve and certain areas of my body haven't started growing any yet. My nails were filed into uniform shapes, and my hair was washed about five times in various different concoctions and it now lies in soft ringlets down my back, dipping into this final bath. Even with the pain and annoyance, I have followed Seeder's advice and not a word or sound of protest has escaped my lips.

'She has such agreeable hair,' Syria says, scooping warm cupful after cupful of frothy water over my head. 'Now that we've tamed it of course... right, I think that you're ready dear.' It hauls me out of the bath and wraps a frilly white towel around me. I have never seen anything more stupid; a towel with holes in it? And frills… frills and pretty things have no place where I come from. They stand me on a metal plate and I feel a slight electric current passing up through my feet, all the way to the ends of my hair and I am dry instantly. Reluctantly, I hand back the towel to Syria's waiting hands.

'Let's get Clio!' The enthusiasm in Hero's voice almost has me rolling my eyes and I quickly control them and arrange my face in what I hope is an I'm-so-excited-I-can't-wait-to-meet-my-stylist type of expression.

Clio turns out to be a young woman in her early thirties. Once side of her head is completely shaved and covered with thin gold tattoos but the hair on the other side of her head is a gorgeous green-blue colour and is fluffed up magnificently. So far I have been totally repulsed by these strange Capitol fashions so I'm quite surprised to find that the overall effect of Clio's getup is one of beauty.

Clio doesn't introduce herself; instead she circles around my naked body in silence for about five minutes. I know that I should feel embarrassed but I can't summon up the energy any more than I could for my prep team.

'You can put on that robe now and then we'll have some lunch.' Her voice is surprisingly soft, the Capitol accent less noticeable. Gratefully I pull on the thin paper robe that my prep team has left for me. By the time that I have pulled it over my head, the lunch has already arrived seemingly from nowhere – it's like magic.

'Come and sit down and we can have a chat.'

To my surprise, Clio's words actually put me at ease for the first time since I arrived at the Capitol.

* * *

Thanks for my review so far – hugely inspiring. I thought I'd give you a list of all the tributes in the Games. Then, once they're in the arena I can tell you which are dead at the end of each chapter so that you (and I!) can keep track.

1 (Luxury) – Blaze and Ruby

2 (Masonry and Defence) – Viktor and Quartz

3 (Technology) – Fuse and Magnet

4 (Fishing) – Urchin and Netta

5 (Power) – Spark and Leena

6 (Transport) – Remus and Megan

7 (Lumbar) – Oak and Amber

8 (Textiles) – Calico and Lacey

9 (Grain) – Rye and Maisie

10 (Livestock) – Terra and Sierra

11 (Agriculture) – Maya and Shebastin

12 (Coal) – Troy and Ash


	5. Play the game

**Play the game**

'Close your eyes.' Somewhat reluctantly, I follow Clio's request.

I hear a slight rustling and I feel my muscles tensing automatically; even though I know that no harm will come to me until I am actually in the arena, I am still nervous and jumpy. Clio pulls something soft yet firm over my head. The material shimmies down over my naked body and although it's as warm as if it has come straight off another body, I shudder. I feel her fingers deftly buttoning up the back of the dress and I shiver again as they reach my neck; I have always hated people touching me here, but I don't know why.

'And now… finishing touches to hair and make-up.' It feels weird standing here with my eyes shut while Clio dabs at my face. Finally, when I feel as if I can't stand being blind any longer, her hands leave me, and I hear her take a step backwards.

'Perfect...' She breathes. 'Right you can open your eyes now!'

My eyes fly open and I gasp: I am standing in front of a full length mirror but I barely recognise the girl who looks back at me. She is a thing of beauty; a sprite or a wood elf that has stepped straight out of the orchards at home. My dress is woven from pink apple blossom and leafy vines. Somehow, despite living in the Capitol, Clio has captured the sunlight falling through the blossom laden bowers so beautifully that I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as a wave of homesickness threatens to drown me.

'No crying!' Clio dabs at the offending tears with a soft paper hanky. 'No destroying my masterpiece!' I sniff and tell myself to get a grip, my eyes still drinking in the vision of beauty that stares out of the mirror:

My hair is wreathed with flowers and it falls in a soft waterfall of black curls to my shoulders. Clio has left most of my face make-up free but she has outlined my eyes with black before using a gradient of dark to soft pink on my eyelids which make my eyes look like huge, bottomless brown pools. Somehow she has simultaneously made me appear young and old, vulnerable and wise.

'It's… it's beautiful, Clio. _Thank you_.'

'We want them to remember the brother and sister.' The way that she says 'brother and sister' makes me look away from the mirror and I am surprised to see her pursing her lips. It's hard to tell but I think that she might be a little bit disgusted. 'I think we'll have you barefoot… make you seem more fairy-like…' The expression vanishes and is replaced by excitement and I wonder briefly if I imagined it; it's almost impossible to read these Capitol people. They are so different from us, almost as if we are a completely different species of human - we are the base first generation whilst they are the chosen genetic perfections. Anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach and for a few seconds I am tempted to destroy Clio's creation; _anything_ to combat this unfairness.

Clio steers me quickly out of the room and down a flight of stairs to the bottom of the Remake Centre where the horses and carriages await.

'Just in time.' I see that Clio is right; we are indeed one of the last to arrive.

We hurry past the chariots from District One and Two which are already starting to roll towards the doors of the Remake Centre, ready to get into line. The tributes from District One, Ruby and her equally imposing partner are sparkling with so much glitter that I can barely make out any other aspect to their costumes. They look so strong and fierce that I find myself unable to look away as they roll past. Ruby catches my eye and she smirks, tossing her long auburn hair over her shoulder. Her expression is full of confidence and arrogance; it says _I will kill you and enjoy it. _I swallow down a slight nausea but I don't drop my gaze until she has looked away.

The tributes from District Two are wearing breath-taking outfits that are studded with precious stones; the girl, a tall, athletic black haired beauty is covered with diamonds and sapphires and her District partner is wearing emeralds and amethysts. _Viktor_; if there was ever name that vomits superiority and conceit then this is it. I know that the Career tributes, from District One, Two and Four, are almost always the winners; they are trained in special academies until they are eighteen and then they volunteer. I am told that there is a strange system for volunteers in these Districts; it isn't as easy as the way that Sheb and I did it by simply stepping forwards at the reaping and they have to go through a rigorous parole of tests and trials to make sure that they have the highest chance of bringing victory and glory home to their District.

My eyes move on to the final two members of the Career pack; District Four are dressed as the King and Queen from under the sea; their stylists have really capitalized on the skimpy seaweed costumes. The girl's tumbling golden hair is even woven with the stuff and both are wearing tiny golden crowns; again a symbol of the victory and success that they know they will achieve.

District Three are wearing a strange combination of wires and grey-green circuit boards. Their stylist has also painted their faces a disturbing combination of the two colours and the girl has wires entwined through her hair. All in all, the effect is horrific and I can tell by the expressions on their faces that they know it.

'Come on dreamer, we don't have time to hang about.' Clio pulls on my arm to get me to move a bit quicker. 'Aelia is already going to shoot me for not getting you down here in good time.'

I sidestep to avoid dipping my bare toes in a large puddle of horse manure and I barely look up in time to see the costumes from District Five; the tributes are dressed in unflattering grey boxes covered with knobs and dials. It takes me a couple of seconds to guess what their stylists are trying to achieve; District Five supplies power and these strange boxes are supposed to be generators. Six are dressed in white jumpsuits but it isn't the unremarkable costumes that catches my eye, it is the reaction of the tributes; the girl appears to be having a fit of hysterics and the boy is staring into the middle distance in a way that makes me shiver; it's like he's been drugged.

'There you are; I thought that something had happened.' I tear my eyes away from the tree-like costumes of District Seven to look at my brother and I feel my eyes widen in surprise. Sheb is wearing a knotted vine of leaves that entwines around his waist and up over one shoulder. On his back, his stylist has placed an ornately carved bow and arrows and on his head is a wreath of leaves, dotted with small apples. I find myself smiling as I realise who we represent; together we are the royalty of the natural world. We represent the bountiful orchards and the stunning woodland.

Sheb extends a hand to pull me up into the carriage.

'You look beautiful Maya.' He gives me a one-armed hug but immediately takes a step back as Clio approaches sharply with a warning not to crush my outfit.

'Good luck!' A strange looking man with a thick mane of black hair says brightly. I realise that this must be Sheb's stylist and I try to smile politely although his surgically enhanced smile is giving me the creeps - he seems to have about twice as many teeth as the average person and each is filed into a sharp white point which gives him a hungry, wolfish appearance.

'Make sure you smile and wave. Oh and hold hands; I want…' Clio's last words are drowned out by the start of the anthem.

_O horn of Plenty...!_

My eyes dart forwards to where the first chariot is just exiting through the doors before sliding back down the line until I reach the tributes from District Eight. Here, for the first time, the stylists have dressed their tributes in costumes that bear no resemblance to each other; the boy is dressed in a bright patchwork of a rough cotton-like material which looks rugged but effective and the girl is dressed from head to toe in frilly lace. My mind dredges up the names of the two of them and I find myself smiling inexplicably at the cleverness of the stylists; the two are dressed in the cloth of their names, Calico and Lace.

The smile falters as I reach District nine and the blind girl; she looks so lost and defeated that I feel my heart clenching with pity. What must it be like to enter the arena knowing that you don't even have the slimmest chance of survival?

'Maya…?' I turn to my brother, who is hissing my name in a way that tells me that he has been saying it over and over again for some time.

'What?' My eyes travel back to the tributes from District Ten, whose chariot has just began to move; both are dressed up in skimpy costumes that leave little to the imagination. They are wearing red gingham and clogs and the girl has her thin brown hair done up in bunches, tied with red ribbon. She has an old fashioned iron cow bell hanging around her neck and her District partner is holding a shepherd's crook.

'Maya!' I turn back to my brother. 'Will you do what they want?'

'What _who_ want?' I whisper harshly.

'Chaff, Seeder, August and your stylist?' August must be the name of Sheb's wolf-like stylist. 'Look, I know how you feel Maya but we need sponsors and for that we need to smile and wave and look like we're enjoying ourselves.' Our chariot jolts and I suddenly realise that our horses have started moving. My eyes flick forwards again; they are a soft beige colour with pale yellow manes and tails and they are so well trained that nobody needs to hold their reins. I wonder how they know where they're going; do they practice in the nights leading up to the a parade so that the horses know which route to take round the Capitol? Or perhaps they aren't real horses; they might be genetically altered muttations, programmed with a remote control...

'Maya,' Sheb hisses again and he gives my hand a sharp yank to get my attention. I turn towards him but my irritability falters as I see the pleading in his eyes and I feel myself sagging in defeat.

'Okay, fine, whatever. I'll do it. I'll play the game.' I snap, as we roll out of the wide doors and into a sea of noise and colour.

* * *

'That was so so so so so good!' Aelia squeaks enthusiastically as we step off the chariot. I try to smile in response and the muscles in my cheeks twitch painfully; they are not used to being so overworked and after nearly an hour of smiling and waving I am finding it difficult to get them to cooperate. Aelia doesn't appear to notice my lack of enthusiasm and she pulls me over to the lift, which is a magnificent thing made out of crystal. I feel my heart clenching with pity as we pass District Twelve's Chariot; the tributes are stark naked and covered with black dust, presumably to represent coal. It does nothing to cover up how malnourished they both are and I can count their ribs easily through the dust. Neither of them are making an effort to cover themselves up; they simply look cold and miserable. I suppose that once you've been aired naked on national television, then your embarrassment has reached a peak and you don't care who else sees you.

The elevator glides up at a speed that takes my breath away before coming to a halt outside a magnificent set of rooms.

'Here you go, Maya.' Aelia says, opening the door to my suite of rooms. 'Clean yourself up; dinner's in half an hour.' I suppress a snort because how can I be dirty after the six hours of solid cleaning that I endured this morning? As I turn into my room, I catch sight of Sheb and he shakes his head very slightly, telling me that he doesn't approve of the way that I am behaving. For some reason, this annoys me and I stalk into my rooms, slamming the door behind me.

The suite is even more lavish than the rooms that I was given on the tribute train. The walls are covered with so many knobs and dials that I wonder how on earth the Capitol attendants have thought up a separate command for each. Does one of them invite a troop of dancing wood elves into your suite for your entertainment? Or perhaps a somersaulting clown carrying a plate of cookies? I snort again, loudly this time because I know that nobody can hear me before stripping off my dress and laying it on the wide double bed; I can't bring myself to treat it with disrespect, it's too beautiful.

I walk into the bathroom which is even more technical than the bedroom; even the sink has about thirty different options, regulating the water and soaps and the shower has more than a hundred. I can't be bothered working out how to use it so I simply stick my face and hands under the tap before walking back into the bedroom. It takes me a while to get the giant wardrobe to cooperate but I finally manage to program it to give me a soft green dress and a matching pair of shoes.

The gigantic menu on the bedside table lures me into ordering a selection of pastries. When they arrive, warm and alluring, less than a minute later, my stomach rumbles and it is all that I can do not to stuff them all in my mouth at once. I select a flaky chocolate covered number to nibble on and then, a cinnamon swirl.

I am just finishing a sticky almond and apricot pasty when the door opens and Sheb walks in.

'Hey,' I say indistinctly through a mouthful. I offer him the plate and he takes a pastry before sinking down next to me on my bed.

'Listen Maya,' he says quietly, after swallowing the pastry whole. 'I know that you're angry and… and that you don't want to play their game but…'

'Of course I don't want to play their game!' I interrupt sharply, my fourth pastry stopping midway to my mouth.

'I know,' Sheb says simply. 'Maya, do you remember what Dad said to Saff when he came to say goodbye. I nod, unable to speak; my father returned to us for the briefest time. 'We have to play their game, Sissy,' Sheb says softly. 'I know it's sickening but we need to attract sponsors. Chaff thinks that we have a good chance of getting some of the good ones.'

'Because we're brother and sister?' I ask quietly and Sheb nods.

'Partly, but also because we both volunteered and because of Saff's baby...'

'I hate the idea of sucking up to the people who are going to enjoy watching me die,' I say quietly, putting my pastry back on the plate; my desire for the sticky sweetness has vanished and I can feel disgust boiling in my stomach.

'I know, me too.' He enfolds me in a warm hug. 'Promise me that you'll try though, please…' I nod reluctantly.

* * *

Thanks for my reviews so far. Hope you enjoy this chapter - please let me know what you think.


	6. Make an impression

**Make an impression**

'Don't ignore the survival skills,' Seeder says quietly over breakfast the next morning. I have filled my plate with fluffy pancakes smothered with maple syrup and bacon and although I am listening to the conversation, I am not participating in it; the food is too good to empty my mouth for any reason.

'Or the edible plants station,' Chaff puts in, thinning his coffee with clear liquid from his hip flask. 'I know that you both know quite a bit about plants but the station could give you an idea about what sort of arena you're headed to. If it's a desert or woodland…' He trails off and takes a swig from the glass. I reach out for another slice of Madeira cake and nod demurely, remembering Sheb's plea last night.

'Should we stick together or work alone, you know, to cover more stations?' Sheb asks, in between huge mouthfuls of lamb stew.

'Whatever you want,' Seeder replies, 'it's not as if the other tributes aren't aware of the fact that you will be working together in the arena.' I help myself to a third piece of cake and another stack of pancakes; I've never thought of myself as having a sweet tooth before but then I suppose we've never been able to afford sugar unless it's a very special occasion.

'Learn to tie a decent knot, or to set a snare or something,' Chaff puts in.

'Sheb, you can have a go with a curved sword and Maya perhaps you should practice your target throwing…'

Half an hour later, I am standing in a tense half circle of tributes listening as a tall, athletic woman with an uncountable number of pink plaits snaking around her head, explains the training schedule: Basically we are allowed to do whatever we want so long as we don't engage in any combative exercises with the other tributes. As she speaks, I can't help but look around at the other tributes and I feel despair rising in my throat; deep down, I probably knew it already but now that we are all on level ground, I cannot deny it any longer; I am the smallest by quite a long shot.

'Come on, might as well start with something we're relatively good at.' I tear my eyes away from Ruby who has just picked up a sword and is using it to decapitate training dummies with an almost inappropriate amount of pleasure.

'Okay, let's do the edible plants station then. Get it out of the way.'

Despite Chaff's insistence that we visit the edible plants section, we both ace the test that the trainer gives us and when he sees that I am eager to learn and that none of the other tributes are coming near his station, the man starts lecturing me on the healing properties of certain plants. Sheb wanders off during our conversation and when we have finally finished, I see that he is at the sword training station with Ruby and her District partner. He is wielding a curved sword and I find myself totally mesmerised by how at home it looks in his hand. Despite never using the weapon before, his thrusts and jabs look equally graceful as Ruby's.

I have absolutely no wish to approach him while he is so close to the Careers so I cross over to the climbing wall, feeling slightly intimidated as I look up at the towering, overhanging fake rock face.

'Do you want a go Maya?' The trainer asks a little patronisingly. I briefly wonder whether all the trainers are forced to learn the tributes names. Do they sit down with pictures of us after the reaping and force their brains to remember? I shake my head to clear it and force myself to listen while he buckles me into the harness and explains that it will catch me if slip.

I have never climbed rock before but I figure that it can't be much different from trees. Maybe this overconfidence is what causes me to slip but I am barely ten meters off the ground when I jump for a hold that turns out to be flat on top and I find myself falling backwards, my stomach swooping sickeningly. I am brought to an abrupt halt by the harness and I just manage to get my hands out in time before I collide with the wall. I bounce backwards, swinging gently until I am dangling in mid-air a few feet away from the rock face. My heart rate slows as I am lowered gently to the ground, revolving slowly as I descend and I can feel my face flaming with embarrassment.

I can see by the expression on the trainer's face that he is suppressing a smile and this irritates me exponentially and I am suddenly desperate to show him that I am not as pathetic as he is imagining. I take the wall more slowly this time, using my head to think of the best route up and not jumping for holds. When I reach the top I smile to myself before counting to three and letting go. Once again, I free-fall for a couple of meters before the harness catches me. I don't know whether it's because I'm expecting it, but it's not quite so nerve-wrecking this time.

Over the next two days Sheb and I cover as many stations as possible; shelter-making, fire-starting, first-aid. I learn how to set a decent snare and we both have a go on the obstacle course; an intimidating spider's web of ropes that stretches across the entire gymnasium twenty feet above all the other stations. Sheb spends a lot of time at the sword fighting station, learning different techniques with his weapon of choice and, after a shaky start, when I got laughed at by Viktor's District partner for wanting to throw knives, I learn some valuable techniques and improve my aim at the knife throwing station.

At dinner on the second evening, Sheb seems preoccupied and although the food is as spectacular as usual, my mind is also busy; I went back to the edible plants section again this afternoon to recap on the medical applications. It's not until we have finished the first two courses and have moved on to a pudding that Aelia calls 'treacle tart' that Sheb finally speaks.

'Ruby and Blaze invited me to join the Career pack.' I choke on my spoonful of tart and Seeder thumps me on the back.

'What did… you… say…?' My eyes are watering from my violent choking and the words are interspersed with more coughing.

'What do you think, Maya?' Sheb says crossly, helping himself to a second piece of pudding.

'Sorry…' I begin and Sheb shrugs.

'They… they weren't happy when I declined their offer.' He shudders slightly.

'Well of course they weren't,' Seeder says lightly.

'The Careers are used to getting their own way, used to dictating the shots. Pure arrogance if you ask me.' This comment comes from Aelia and I am so surprised that I almost choke again. She looks slightly embarrassed because the three of us are looking at her in surprise. 'Well it is!' She says, almost defiantly, 'if you ask me, it's much more interesting when a tribute from one of the less wealthy Districts wins; it makes the generosity of the Capitol seem so much more astute when they go home bathed in riches.' I suppress a snort and go back to my pudding; for half a second I actually thought that she was going to say something worthwhile. There's a long silence before Sheb clears his throat again.

'Where's Chaff?'

'Upstairs,' Aelia purses her lips, 'drinking with District Twelve's mentor.' She continues, her high pitched voice sounding forced as it comes out through her lips. 'I _suggested _that he should be here seeing as we're discussing your strategies.' She half closes her eyes and sighs theatrically and it is all I can do not to snort again.

'So tomorrow afternoon, they're going to bring you in and evaluate you. They do it District by District so you'll both be among the last to go.' Seeder puts down her spoon and looks at us solemnly. 'This is your opportunity to show them everything you've got. Maya, you should show your knife throwing but also your ability to fly through the trees and perhaps some of your plant knowledge too. Sheb…' She trails off, looking forcefully into Sheb's eyes and he nods as if she has spoken; I obviously missed the wordless conversation that passed between them. I help myself to another slice of treacle tart, feeling slightly put out.

After dinner, I head back to my suite to read the book on healing plants that the trainer at the edible plants station has leant me. I am reading about the properties of Bergamot and Chamomile when there's a knock on the door and Sheb walks in. He watches me for a few seconds before coming over and settling himself beside me on the bed.

'What?' I roll over so that I can look at him. I know from the way that he's biting his lip that something is bothering him and also that it's only a matter of time before he spits it out.

'I brought you some chocolates, they're caramels, Aelia ordered a selection after you left.' I ignore the offering and push myself into a sitting up position.

'What is it Sheb?' He looks at me for a few seconds as if sizing up how much he should tell me and I feel a flicker of my former irritation returning. 'Remember your promise on the train?' I snap.

'Okay, okay!' He holds his hands out defensively. 'Look, I told you at dinner that the Careers asked me to join them.' I nod, suddenly feeling inexplicably cold as the first pricklings of doubt creep through me; is Sheb really going to stick by me in the arena?

'Well, when I refused, Ruby got quite angry. 'Quite' being an understatement. She told me that no one ever gets the better of her an that she's out to make us both pay once we get to the arena.' Suddenly hating myself for my moment of doubt, I put a hand on his arm.

'Look, Sheb, she sounds like a…' I dig around in my brain for the correct terminology. 'Well like a spoiled brat if I'm honest. I…' I shudder as I think back to the general way that the Career pack act; bloodbath killings are quick but any killing in the days that follow is generally drawn out to keep the audience entertained.

'…I can't imagine that it'll be any worse than it usually is.' I finish lamely.

'I know… it just… well it scared me when she described explicitly how much agony you were going to be in when she killed you.'

'Sheb, she's just used to getting her own way. When it doesn't go the way she wants she resorts to threats.'

'I'm sorry Maya, I didn't want to worry you, I just… just wanted to keep you up to date, like I promised…' I think back to the silent conversation that he had with Seeder over the table but I decide to let it go.

The following morning I wake up early and after showering I go into the dining room with my book on plants, hoping to get some last minute revision in before I have to hand it back to the trainer. I'm actually surprised to find that Chaff is already up and is shovelling down a large plateful of hot grain and stew. He grins good-naturedly at me but he doesn't speak until he has finished two platefuls of breakfast.

'I was hoping that you'd be up early,' I look up from the page on Echinacea in surprise. 'I spoke to your brother last night, gave him some advice. I have an idea for your private session with the Gamemakers…' He lowers his voice and begins to speak quietly and urgently. Five minutes later, he stands up, gives me another good-natured grin and walks out of the room, leaving me staring after him in disbelief; I thought that he didn't care about us but it looks like I got that very wrong. If Chaff's plan works then I'm in with a good chance of impressing the Gamemakers.

* * *

I walk nervously into the gymnasium for my private session. I can tell the minute I walk in that the majority of the Gamemakers are tired and bored and several are very obviously drunk. I swallow saliva and grit my teeth; the only thing I can do is to make a start on Chaff's plan and to hope that I'm good enough to gain some attention.

First, I cross over to the edible plants and first aid stations and select a couple of plants and a basic first aid kit. I place them in a neat pile in front of the Gamemakers and then I quickly cross to the knife throwing section and pick out several knives. Finally, I wheel over three of the training dummies and leave them standing like a row of sentinels beside the first aid supplies.

'I would like three trainers please,' my voice shakes slightly but it is loud and clear and several of the Gamemakers look over with interest. I can feel my heart thumping as the trainers approach but when I tell them what I want them to do, my voice has steadied and I sound a lot more confident than I feel. They nod and spread out. My nerves quadruple; this is it, this is the time when I have to make an impression or I will lose what little attention I am commanding.

'Are you ready, Miss Stone?' One of the trainers asks dubiously.

My heart thrums as the first man barrels towards me, wielding a fake sword. As the weapon cuts through the air in front of me, I shoulder roll underneath his outstretched arm and take off across the gymnasium. The second trainer comes at me, her arm upraised. As if in slow motion, I see the axe leave her hand. Again, I know that the weapon is fake, but adrenaline thrills through my veins and I duck as the weapon flies over my head, missing my hair by less than an inch. The final trainer is wielding two spears. As he takes aim, I jump for a rope on the obstacle course above me and swing myself up, climbing nimbly until I am twenty feet above him. The first spear passes harmlessly through the air behind me as I jump onto the next obstacle; the climbing net and hurl myself over the top. From the top of the net I jump for the bar. For half a heartbeat I think that I'm going to miss it but one hand closes around the cold, slippery metal. I can see the trainer aiming with the second spear and I realise I am in trouble; hanging by one arm ten feet above him, I am basically a sitting target. As the spear leaves his hand, I do the only thing that I can think of that he'll least expect; I drop to the ground below. All three trainers converge on me but before they can grab me, I have swarmed up a dangling rope and I am out of their reach again.

Breathing heavily, I turn towards the Gamemakers, pleased to see that nearly three quarters of them are now looking at me. One, a balding fifty year old who looks more than a little bit drunk is actually clapping and a couple of others are nodding appreciatively.

I jump to the ground and shake hands with the three trainers before moving back towards the three dummies. I activate the heart monitor on each and pick up two of the knives.

'Would you like to choose a body part?' I ask in a clear voice. The head Gamemaker, a black haired man with a beard shaved in a truly magnificent pattern, looks at me rather condescendingly but a tall woman, who seems to carry off the deep purple robes with more style than any of the others, actually leans forwards.

'How about the torso sweetie?' She trills, her affected Capitol accent sounding even more ridiculous than normal.

I take a few steps back until I am about seven or eight meters away; this is as far away as I am willing to risk my throwing skills and although I know that it isn't nearly as impressive as the girl from District Two who has perfect accuracy at fifteen meters away, I hope that it is enough to gain me some respect. The first knife streaks through the air, embedding itself up to its hilt in the dummy's chest and I feel myself exhale a sigh of relief as the dummy's heart rate flat-lines.

'Who's next?' I turn back to the Gamemakers and I am surprised to see that I have their undivided attention.

'How about the leg?' A toad like one suggests. I nod demurely and take a couple of steps forward, knowing that I will not be able to hit the smaller target with as much accuracy. My aim isn't quite so good this time and I miss the leg by a couple of inches and hit the dummy in the groin. Despite the failed attempt, I hear laughs and an elderly Gamemaker shouts out that I may not have hit the leg but I have certainly caused my victim excruciating pain and possibly castration. I blush and step forwards to pull out the knife. The heart monitor which has been going haywire flat-lines like the first.

I know that I am running out of time so I quickly step forwards to my third dummy victim. Some of the Gamemakers are shouting out suggestions of where I should take aim but I ignore them; this time I mean to do something different.

I slash across the dummy's stomach, taking care not to cut too deeply. It's heart rate speeds up as I step forwards and lower it to the ground until it is lying on it's back. Then I quickly fetch the basic first aid kit. I use the sterile thread too apply some messy stitches – they're not perfect but they'll do the job and it demonstrates that I know a little about first aid. Finally, I pick up Yarrow and Calendula out of my pile of herbs; Yarrow to stop bleeding and Calendula to prevent infection. I stick a handful of both into my mouth and chew them into a sticky paste. The taste is atrocious but it's the only method I know. I spread the gloopy green paste across the roughly stitched wound. Slowly the heart monitor on the dummy returns to normal, telling me that my job is done and I look up.

A couple of the Gamemakers have got bored and have turned away to refill their plates but the majority are still looking at me. I stand up and give a small bow.

'Thank you for your time.'

'Very well, Miss Stone, you can go.'

I turn away, silently thanking Chaff; his plan worked.

* * *

Here you go. What did you think of my outfits at the tribute parade? Nobody commented!


	7. Guilt

**Guilt**

'Ready for the moment of truth?' Chaff asks brightly as we file into the sitting room after Aelia to watch the scores being announced. The sitting room is shaped like a hexagon, with six walls of equal length, five of which are painted in different shades of orange. The final wall is a huge television screen which, at the moment, is turned off. Its gleaming darkness reflects the soft lighting of the room in an iridescent array of dim arks and swirls.

I sink into one of the plush orange chairs, shrugging in reply to Chaff's question because whether I'm ready or not I will find out my score in a matter of minutes. Despite my attempt at indifference, I find myself biting the skin around my thumbnail so I pull my knees up to my chin and wrap my hands around them to get myself to stop; there's absolutely no point in being nervous because there is nothing I can do to change my score now.

The anthem of Panem blares out from hidden speakers in the ceiling and the screen lights up with the Capitol seal; nobody has turned it on but apparently all the televisions in the Capitol are wired up to show broadcasts regardless of whether there is anyone even watching. As I hug my knees, I notice that Sheb is having another wordless conversation with Seeder and my stomach twists slightly in apprehension; Sheb refused to tell me what happened during his individual assessment. I could tell by the way that his mouth pulled down at the corners that whatever it was, it wasn't something that I was going to be happy about.

There is no introduction to the scoring; everybody who's watching knows what they mean, so as soon as the anthem has finished a picture of Ruby's District partner appears in place of the Capitol seal. He is one of the largest tributes that I have ever seen; over six and a half feet and every inch solid muscle. He makes Sheb seem average in comparison and me as tiny as a doll. A _breakable_ china doll… I pull myself together and tell myself to focus on the screen. Underneath his picture, they are flashing a number ten.

Ruby and the two tributes from District Two also come out with tens and the final two members of the Career pack, District Four, both get nines. Career tributes are always high scorers, getting in the eight to ten region but this year's bunch seem to be stronger than average. I know that they will be even more popular with the sponsors because of it and the fact that all six of them are paradigms of the ideal tribute also helps; they are all beautiful in their own way, well fed and well trained and they will be almost impossible for us to beat.

With the exception of the boy from Seven who also scores a nine, the rest of the tributes average around a five. Maisie, the blind girl from District Nine does particularly badly with a two. Terra, the boy from Ten gets a seven and his District partner scores a four.

Although I know that he is next up, it's still a surprise when Sheb's photo flashes on the screen. I suck in a deep breath but the air leaves my lungs almost immediately as Sheb's score is revealed. My shock is so extreme that it's like a punch to the gut because underneath Sheb's picture they are flashing a number one. The lowest score so far.

'What…?' My protest gets waved aside because Sheb's photo has been replaced by mine. I doubt that we have to wait any longer than any of the other tributes, but time seems to slow down as we wait for them to flash my score under my picture. Finally, after what seems like several years, they flash up a number ten. A Career score…

'What did you do?' The question is out of my mouth before my mind has even registered the information. 'Sheb, what did you do?' I look around the room, surprised that nobody else seems to be sharing my confusion and indignation. Sheb meets my question with an almost defiant shrug.

'I showed them everything that I've got, _everything_…'

'Like hell you did,' I interrupt fiercely. 'I suppose that's why they awarded you with a one?' My anger fades as understanding dawns.

'You told them that you were going to protect me even if it meant that you had to…' My voice is flat and devoid of emotion but, even so, I can't seem to finish the sentence because the words, 'die for me' curdle on the tip of my tongue.

'Maya, I've made it clear from the start where I stand. You're going home. I'm going to make it happen. _We're_ going to make it happen.' He gestures around the circle of adults, who are all watching our exchange in silence.

'But…' I begin.

'Remember what I said on the train, Maya.' Seeder says, her voice low and gentle but somehow managing to convey a depth of emotion.

'You know what?' I start, ignoring her comment. 'I'm sick of this!' My voice rises and hysteria starts to seep through my words. 'Why does no one ever ask me what I want? This whole thing is…' I hesitate, unable to find the words to describe what I'm feeling. I am standing up, with no recollection of ever getting to my feet and I can feel myself trembling with anger. My stomach is full of a strange leaden feeling that I can't quite place; it's a deep, heaviness made up partly of sadness and homesickness and partly of horror. How can I live with myself if I let Sheb die for me? How can I go home without him?

The silence stretches through the room as the feeling fills my stomach and starts to seep up into my throat and my mouth. I am already drowning in guilt and it hasn't even happened yet. I can't imagine what I will feel if Sheb dies and I somehow, impossibly, make it home again. I struggle to keep the feeling internalised as it tries to spill out of my mouth to contaminate everyone in the room. The silence lengthens before I feel myself crumpling and I know that I am going to cry.

'Just… just forget it…' I turn on my heal and sprint for my bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. I throw myself face down onto the soft pillows of my bed and let the waves of misery sweep over my head.

I ignore Seeder and Aelia's attempts to get me to open the door, I ignore Sheb's pleading, I ignore Chaff's jovial comments and, finally, they leave me in peace. When I finally manage to stop the tears, I roll myself over onto my back and brush the soaking strands of hair off my face. The luminescent hands of the alarm clock on the bedside table tell me that it's two o'clock in the morning and this surprises me. How can someone cry solidly for five hours and not become dehydrated? I sit up and rub at my eyes which are stinging from all those tears.

I swing my legs out of the bed and walk into the bathroom. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The girl that looks back out at me is almost unrecognisable from the girl who left her District five days ago. Her hair frames her face, wild and damp. Her eyes shine with the memory of tears but it is her expression that haunts me; I have known sadness before, I have known anger, but I have never known guilt. I stare at the mirror and shake myself mentally: This will be the last time that I let myself be dragged under, the last time that I will cry about this horrible situation; I will not let the Capitol break me. I will not let myself feel this guilt over something that is out of my control and hasn't even happened yet. I am stronger than they are and I will not give up before the Games have even begun.

The following morning, I drag myself out of bed and stagger into the adjoining bathroom. My eyes are still puffy and swollen from last night's tears and my throat feels like sandpaper; perhaps the tears dehydrated me after all. I gulp down about a gallon of water and pull off my clothes before hitting blindly at one of the shower buttons. Immediately, I am deluged in thick purple foam that smells violently of black currents. Although the scent is too cloying and artificial to be realistic, it still reminds me of the current fields back at home and I find myself swallowing down another bout of tears.

I shake myself mentally, reminding myself of the promise I made last night; I will not let them break my spirit and I refuse to cry again in their hearing. I reach for the sponge and scrub vigorously at my face to remove any lingering traces of last night's misery.

Thirty minutes later, clean and more or less free of tear stains, I am sat at the breakfast table listening to our mentors discussing the tribute interviews that will be held tomorrow night. I pick at a croissant and try to pay attention but I am thinking over Sheb's attempt at an apology when he cornered me outside my room before breakfast. I waved it aside, telling him that I understood. I can't work out whether this is a lie or whether it is true. Perhaps I am just beyond caring?

'You need an angle. The impression that you make tomorrow night will decide which sponsors will go with team Maya and Shebastin.' I roll my eyes and glare at the carpet. Sheb leans forward instinctively, already engaging with our mentors. As if to balance this out, I lean backwards into the back of the chair and reach for another croissant.

'People are interested in you and we need grasp that interest while it's still warm and keep them absorbed. We have to decide what impression you are going to give them. They don't know anything about either of you except that you both volunteered and how you scored in training. We need to decide who you're…'

'I can't pretend to be someone that I'm not,' I warn my croissant, interrupting Seeder's speech, but not looking to see how my rudeness is received.

'We're not asking you to be someone else, Maya,' she says quietly. This catches me by surprise and I look up before I can stop myself. 'Caesar will ask you questions about Saffron and her unborn child. He's going to ask you how it feels to be pitted up against your brother, Maya, and how you feel about the way he volunteered to protect you. Shebastin, he's going to ask you how far you will go to save your sister and why you only received a one in training.' Seeder exchanges a poignant look with Chaff as we wait for them to deal out the climatic instruction.

'We want you to tell the truth.' Chaff says, grinning broadly.

'We want you to answer civilly of course; keep in mind that you are trying to win over the sponsors but keep referencing back to the fact that you are brother and sister,' Seeder says. 'Let them know the real you.'

'Let them know exactly how it feels that in order for you to be victorious, your sibling has to die…' And then Chaff adds something under his breath, something that makes absolutely no sense to me at all: '…the perfect touch of rebellion.'

* * *

'Close your eyes.' This time, I follow Clio's request enthusiastically. Smooth, silky material slides down over my naked body. I am impatient to open my eyes to see Clio's new creation but she slides my feet into sandals and adjusts my hair and make-up before she finally allows me to look in the mirror.

'Oh Clio…' I breathe, drinking in the vision of beauty. Once again she has transformed me into a wood fairy. This time the dress is a shimmering pearly white and I have a pair of translucent butterfly wings attached to my back. I look up and down my reflection, absorbing every stitch of Clio's work of art; the dress is made up of flower petals and the wings look as if they've been spun from spider gossamer. My hair is wreathed with tiny white star-shaped flowers that I can't identify. Closer examination reveals tiny droplets of dew that reflect the light in an array of beauty. My face has been left free of make-up and this surprises me slightly until I remember Chaff and Seeder's instructions from the day before; we have to remind the audience and the sponsors the whole time of who we really are. They have to see me as the small twelve year old that I am. They have to understand what it's like to be up against your older brother in the Hunger Games.

'Okay, I think we're ready.'

Sheb and the rest of the District Eleven entourage are waiting by the elevator. As we fly downwards, I take a look at Sheb's outfit; August has dressed him in a simple dark green suit with a design of ivy leaves woven up one sleeve and one trouser leg.

'Remember what we discussed,' Chaff hisses, as we part company backstage. I look over to him in surprise; he's about as sober as I've ever seen him and he's more serious because of it. I nod and step into line behind Terra, from Ten.

We step onto the stage and the bright lights and blown air immediately have me blinking and sweating. Eyes watering, I look down at the City Circle, totally amazed by the sheer number of people watching me. A few stands have been set up so that the more prestigious guests can sit down but the majority of the audience are standing, filling the Circle in front of me and spilling into the roads beyond. They are leaning out of every window and every door of the multicoloured Capitol apartments. Cameras dot the rooftops and balconies, the black clad camera crews, perched like crows at the scene of a kill; we are being shown live in every home across the entirety of Panem. I shiver and force myself to start walking again.

It's a relief to finally get to my seat; sitting down, I feel a lot less conspicuous although I know that I am probably still on camera on and off as they flick across the tributes, warming the audience for what's to come next. I shiver in apprehension and cast a quick glance at Sheb who extends a hand towards me. I am about to decline it, because we are so very obviously on camera, when I remember that we need to show the audience who we are. Without hesitating again, I close the small distance between us. It's a relief to hold my brother's hand; his fingers are smoother than I remember and I realise that his prep team must've removed the work-won calluses that populated his skin before we arrived in the Capitol. I look down at my free hand, surprised to see that I must've received the same treatment without noticing.

Caesar Flickerman takes the stage and I recoil sharply; Caesar has hosted the interviews for nearly forty years and he has remained virtually unchanged during that time. Every year he chooses a different colour for his eyes, lips and hair and this year it is a horrible blood crimson which makes him appear even more garish than usual; it's definitely enough to make you do a double take. I suppress a smirk as I realise how well his chosen colour represents the concept of the Hunger Games; blood, pain and death.

Sheb's hand tightens around my own as Caesar starts the interviews. Ruby is up first, looking stunning in a pale gold gown. Caesar doesn't even need to help her to make an impression because she manages perfectly, coming across as strong and ferocious and managing to hold the audience captivated from the word go. Her District partner, Blaze, (Sheb reminded me of his name at lunch), is equally daunting.

Each interview is three minutes long, which seems to fly by when you are watching but I can imagine that it goes by at a snail's pace when you are actually up in the spotlight. The Career interviews pass with an overload of arrogance and superiority and Caesar moves on to the tributes from the less wealthy Districts. Every tribute seems to be trying to work in an angle, some with more success than others; Viktor, the boy from Two, pulls off a blunt blood-lusting killing machine seemingly with little effort and the girl from Seven executes a convincing cunning skilfulness that has me wondering why she only scored a five. Others are less successful; when the girl from six is asked her first question she dissolves into tears and spends the remaining two minutes fifty seconds sobbing with her head in her hands and completely oblivious to Caesar's attempt at continued conversation.

The blind girl from District Nine is lead up to Caesar by one of the Capitol's slaves. Earlier today, I plucked up enough courage to speak to one of them, only to be told off by Syria of all people. Apparently we aren't allowed to talk to them although 'it' wouldn't tell me why.

I turn my attention back to Maisie's interview to discover that Caesar is already trying to get her to describe how she lost her sight. Maisie whispers that she was born blind but this answer doesn't seem to satisfy Caesar and he continues to press her for more details. I can see the poor girl closing up and shrinking into herself like wild flowers at home closing their petals when the sun leaves them. By the end of the interview, Caesar is barely getting one word answers to his questions.

Maisie is led back to her seat and her District partner, a short, stocky redhead takes her place. My heart rate speeds up as I realise that there are now only three tributes left before me. Sweat prickles under my arms and I can feel my palms growing hot and sticky. To give Sheb his due, he doesn't let go of my hand, he simply holds it tighter.

Two tributes left… One… The buzzer goes off and the boy from District Ten shuffles back to his seat and then they call out my name. I feel myself standing automatically. Sheb gives my hand a final squeeze and then I am walking up to the centre of the stage, my legs quivering beneath me.

* * *

Thank you for my reviews/ comments so far. Please keep them coming.


	8. Make them understand

**Make them understand**

'Welcome Maya, welcome…' Caesar encases my small hand in his large one and pumps my arm up and down. I swallow down my nerves and try to summon a smile to my face. The muscles in my cheeks twitch but the smile slides away almost immediately. 'You look beautiful tonight,' Caesar turns to the audience, 'doesn't she folks?' They cheer in agreement and the swell of noise presses on my eardrums. I shake my head to dislodge the feeling of claustrophobia.

'Thank you Caesar,' I finally manage to get the words out. There must be a hidden microphone on the stage somewhere because my voice is magnified out over the entire audience and they fall silent.

'So Maya, let's get straight down to business. I am absolutely dying to know how you managed to score a ten in training. You're so tiny that you must've shown the Gamemakers something stunning. What did you do?'

'I'm…' I hesitate. '…I'm not supposed to go into details...' The audience boos and I feel myself flushing and I continue quickly, raising my voice so that I can be heard over the continued discontented mutterings. '…I showed them everything that I can do but…'

'But…?' Caesar prods.

'But I don't think that I would've got more than a six or a seven on my own. You see my brother Sheb helped a lot.' Caesar leans forward; he's either feigning interest or he's genuinely curious.

'How did he help, Maya? The individual assessments are_ individual_ after all.'

'Sheb showed the Gamemakers how… how talented he is and then he…' My voice shakes slightly but I let the emotion show on my face; this is exactly what Chaff and Seeder want. '…he told them that he would do anything he could to protect me even if that means that he has to…' I hesitate again, this time for effect.

'Has to…?' Caesar's is now so far forwards that his face is only a few inches from mine and I fight the urge to take a step backwards.

'He told them that he would protect me with his life.' A look of pain flashes across Caesar's face and he leans away from me. The audience make noises of appreciation and I feel a faint wave of nausea; how can anyone find this entertaining?

'Is that why he only received a one in training?' I nod, not trusting my voice enough to speak. 'But how do you feel about that Maya?' I glance at Sheb, who is staring at me with smouldering eyes. A silent reminder passes between us; _tell the truth_.

'It's horrible,' I say quietly, letting the raw pain seep into my voice. I turn to the audience. 'Think about it. How would you feel if you knew that the only way that you could go home, the only way that you could see your family again meant that your brother would be dead?' There are cries from the audience at my words and I swallow down my irritation; Capitol people are so fickle. Caesar allows them a few seconds to absorb what I've said before he speaks.

'That's too bad, Maya. You must be feeling so sad.'

'I am feeling sad,' I say, nodding at his words. 'But I'm also angry with him.' The audience quietens down at my words and a look of confusion flashes across Caesar's face.

'Why are you angry?' His voice is puzzled. I look over at Sheb before I answer; he knows how I feel because we talked about it in the Justice building after the reaping but he's doing a good job of looking confused. When I answer Caesar, I am still looking at my brother and I direct my answer to him, as if we were alone in a room together.

'Sheb, I volunteered to protect Saff, Saffron, and the baby. I thought that if I could protect my sister and her unborn child then it would be worth dying in the arena...' The audience is so silent that I can almost believe that Sheb and I are alone. '…when you volunteered, I was angry and confused because…' It's still hard to put these feelings into words; the betrayal I felt, the horror that one of my siblings was going to die after all, the sadness that we were never going to be a complete family any more…

'…it's horrible knowing that despite everything, I haven't managed to stop you from going to the Games.' I whisper, ignoring the audience who are pressing forwards in anticipation. 'I was angry because I thought that by volunteering it meant that the three of you,' I pause before correcting myself, 'I mean the _four _of you would be safe. Now that we're both here, I know that we will never be a complete family again.' I'm not going to tell the Capitol that we weren't a complete family unit before the reaping; that we haven't been _complete _since our mother was taken from us.

'Maya, that's…' Caesar actually seems to be at a loss for words.

'It's excruciating,' I supply. Caesar nods, making a big show of wiping under his eyes despite his face being bone dry. It takes him several seconds to 'compose himself'.

'So you volunteered for your sister,' I nod, slightly confused that we're going over this again when I've already talked about Saff and the baby. 'That was before your brother was even added to the equation.' I nod again, feeling uneasy because I am unsure of where he is going with this question. 'You must've thought that you were going to die. I mean, you are by far the youngest volunteer that we've ever had and no twelve year old has ever won the Games in the past. I think the youngest was Finnick Odair and he was fourteen.'

'I… you're right, Caesar; I didn't think that I had any chance at all of making it home but I knew that it was worth it.'

'Why was it worth it?' I swallow down my irritation; is it really necessary for him to be so dense?

'It was worth it because I love my family more than anything else in the whole world. It was worth it because if Saff, Saffron, was reaped then there was a good chance that both she and the baby wouldn't have made it. I didn't think that I could win the Games but I knew that I'd rather be killed than let my sister and the baby die.' My voice cracks again and the buzzer goes off, signalling the end of my time, which is good because I am in danger of breaking the promise that I made to myself; I will not let them see me cry. Even as I think this, I realise that crying is probably exactly what's needed from me right now; something to ignite the audience. I blink rapidly and a single tear escapes out of each of my eyes. As they roll down my cheeks, the cameras come in closer and I look at the huge screen behind me for the first time; the tears are catching the light as they make their way down my face, leaving a shining trail in their wake. As I watch, the cameras flick over to the audience, doing a close up on a group of Capitol citizens who are also in tears.

'Thank you Maya,' Caesar says, shaking my hand again before nodding me off the stage. I cross back over to my brother who stands up and enfolds me in a hug. The audience goes wild, cries and shouts renting the air. Despite the fact that my face is hidden in my brother's chest and the cameras can't see it, I suppress the smile of triumph that comes to my face. Sheb buries his face in my shoulder. For a few seconds, I think that he is actually upset before he breathes in my ear.

'Nice job sissy.'

Sheb's interview is every bit as emotional as mine; for the first thirty seconds or so, the audience is still so riled that Caesar can't make himself heard but they finally fall quiet and he is able to begin the interview. Sheb begins to paint a picture so full of horror, sadness and love that I feel unbidden tears springing to my eyes again.

'So from the second that she volunteered, you had no plans to survive this Shebastin,' Caesar asks, despite Sheb having already confirmed this.

'That's right Caesar,' Sheb nods, seemingly not annoyed to be repeating himself. 'Maya was so brave and I… I love her so much that I'd rather die than try to live without her.'

'Aren't you afraid?' Caesar asks, raising his voice to be heard over the cries coming from the audience. Sheb appears to think for a few seconds before he nods slowly.

'I'm terrified, Caesar; it's not… not pleasant knowing that you have no chance of ever going home again. I miss my other sister Saffron…' His voice cracks slightly and he swallows as if to swallow down his emotion. Sheb turns his face away from the audience and towards me, the stage lighting illuminating his desperate expression. For a few seconds I am reminded of the eleven year old who ruined the family photo and I recoil slightly in my chair.

'It's hard to know that I will never meet her baby.' Caesar has to take a couple of seconds to compose himself before he asks another question. I don't know whether or not it is an act or whether he is genuinely moved but it looks pretty realistic now that I am not so close to him.

'Maya said that she feels angry with you,' I grind my teeth slightly at Caesar's words but I smooth out my expression in time for the cameras to find my face; Caesar has taken my words completely out of context. 'How do you feel about that, after vowing to protect her with your life?

'I understand how she feels, Caesar.' Sheb says in a low voice and the audience falls silent in anticipation. He turns to me before continuing. 'I understand because I felt the same way when you had to volunteer to stop Saff and the baby from suffering.' Sheb's choice of words surprises me; _had to volunteer_. He's acknowledging out loud that there was never a choice, not in the face of such a tragedy. I've never heard someone say something so rebellious on live television before. I find myself scanning the mentors' balcony for Chaff and Seeder, desperate for some sort of reassurance. Before I can find either of them, Sheb's buzzer goes off and he shakes Caesar's hand again before crossing back over towards me. He extends a hand towards me and I take it without hesitation.

'Food for thought,' Caesar says loudly and unexpectedly, fanning himself vigorously with his hand. He pulls himself together and his face stretches in a forced smile. 'Shall we continue on, folks?' The audience scream approval as the girl from twelve walks up to take Sheb's place.

Seeder, Chaff and Aelia compliment us on our interviews as we eat dinner. Aelia bubbles about how charming we both were but I suspect a darker undercurrent to our mentors' pleasure after Chaff's earlier comment.

'…Maya.' I hear my name and look up from my dinner; my mind is preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow and I seem to have lost track of the conversation.

'What?' I put my fork down as I look up at my brother; my stomach is churning and my appetite all but non-existent despite the mouth-watering meal that we have been served. Sheb gives me a glare to reprimand me for not paying attention and I sigh internally before summoning what I hope looks like an interested expression to my face.

'Look for me during the countdown, Maya, and I'll nod in the direction I want to you to run in as soon as the gong rings.'

'And what are you going to do?' I ask, truly alarmed at the idea of my brother fighting in the bloodbath.

'It's okay; I won't take any unnecessary risks. I'll probably just grab us some weapons and maybe some supplies.' My stomach churns again as I picture the scene and I feel faintly sick.

'What if I can't see you? We might be on opposite sides of the Cornucopia.' I'm being deliberately awkward but my question comes out sounding surprisingly reasonable; last year the tributes were arranged in a ring around the giant golden horn rather than the usual half circle.

'If you can't see me then use your brain,' Sheb says, stabbing a potato with exaggerated aggression. 'If there are woods, then get yourself over to them. If there's, I dunno, a desert or something then get yourself behind a sand dune. It's your job to get away from the Cornucopia as fast as you can. Wherever you go, I'll find you.' I bite back the snappy retort that comes to the tip of my tongue; Sheb is obviously under the impression that he possesses brilliant tracking skills but we both know that I am able to move through the woods without leaving so much as a bent blade of grass to show where I've been.

'I would think that there would be some trees this year, especially after last year.' Chaff says, taking a slurp out of his wineglass. I shudder as I remember; last year's arena was a vast desert. The only plants were creosote, cholla, prickly pear and a few scruffy bushes. The temperature soared during the day and plummeted at night and many tributes died of heatstroke or hypothermia.

'So make for the trees, Maya. If there are mockingjays then use them.'

'You'll be fine,' Chaff slams his wineglass down onto the mahogany table top. To my surprise, it doesn't snap off at the stem at this violent treatment; it must be made from a toughened glass and Chaff must've known that it isn't as delicate as it looks. A wave of deep red crests over the rim and splashes onto the table. The smell of the alcohol combined with the colour of blood turns my stomach and I push my plate away from me, giving up on the idea of food.

The evening drags; we watch a recap of the interviews and then we are subjected to a tearful goodbye from Aelia. Chaff and Seeder also bid us farewell; they won't be coming with us tomorrow morning. Hopefully they'll be busy at the Games Headquarters signing up sponsors and learning the layout of the arena. I feel emotionally drained by the time that I am finally left on my own in my bedroom.

I strip off my dress and fall on the bed in just my underwear. I close my eyes, intending to try and sleep, seeing as it will be the last opportunity that I will get, but my eyes refuse to stay shut and I find myself staring up at the ceiling. I turn on my side and then onto my front, burying my face in the soft pillow. I immediately start to feel suffocated and turn back onto my side, opening my eyes again. I left my bathroom light on and the door is open a few centimetres. The light falls in a golden river across the carpet, stretching across to the opposite wall where it bends upwards.

I am suddenly too hot and too comfortable in this enormous bed. I would give almost anything to be back at home lying on the small, lumpy mattress that I share with Saff. I push myself off the bed, pulling one of the blankets with me, and I curl up on the thick plush carpet instead. Now that I've started thinking of home, it's impossible to stop. My mind seems to be whirring faster and faster until I can't stand it any longer. I stagger to my feet and cross over to the door and out into the living area of our apartment.

The apartment is dark and quiet but through the window, a bright light shines from the street far below where the citizens of the Capitol are still partying. The roar and swell of the crowd is muted through the thick glass but it sickens me all the same; these people are celebrating the start of the Games. They wait in anticipation for the next twenty three deaths… I turn away in disgust.

'Maya?' I jump horribly, nearly wetting myself in my fright; Seeder is standing behind me, her face wreathed in shadows. 'I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you jump. I thought that you might have trouble sleeping so I brought you this.' She hands me a small, white tablet. It glows faintly in the dim light from the street below as I roll it across the palm of my hand.

'It's a sleeping tablet; I was given them after my Games. They don't work hugely well after the first couple of nights.'

'Thanks… I…' I'm suspicious of any medication prescribed by the Capitol but I can't deny that I need to catch up on as much sleep now as I possibly can because even with Sheb at my side, sleeping in the arena will be dangerous.

'Maya, it's been…' Words seem to fail Seeder and she steps forward and enfolds me in her arms, kissing the top of my head. 'I will be doing everything I can to bring you home.' My face is pressed up against her stomach and I can't see her face but her voice shakes. It's the first time that she's betrayed any emotion, the first time that she's let on that this is more than a job to her, that she isn't just our mentor.

Seeder leads me back to my bedroom and helps me to remake the bed. She then sits in silence beside me until the tablet takes effect and I slide blissfully into a sea of darkness.

* * *

'I don't care what the rules are, August!' An angry voice pierces the fog in my head and I prise my eyelids apart as Sheb barrels into my bedroom with August and Clio in tow. I push myself up the bed, my head swirling groggily. _Perfect_; sleeping tablet induced narcosis just when I need to be alert.

'Maya, remember our plan…?' I nod drowsily, blinking rapidly to get the room into focus.

'Shebastin, we really need to go; the hovercraft is waiting.' Sheb ignores his stylist but August's words cause a spike in my heart-rate; this could be the last time that I see my brother alive. I shake my head to clear it and thrust my bare feet out of the bed. I launch myself at my brother and we hug tightly.

'Promise me that you won't get…' I can't finish the sentence but Sheb understands.

'I promise, Maya. I love you.'

'I love you too…' And then my brother is gone.

I am given a plain white shift to wear and a pair of flat canvas shoes and then Clio leads me up to the launching pad on the roof of the Tribute Centre. A hovercraft appears out of thin air directly above me, dropping a metal ladder directly at my feet. Before I step onto it, I look over to the east where pink and orange streaks show where the sun is trying to rise through a bank of grey clouds. The cold wind has me shivering in my skimpy outfit.

'After you, Maya.' Clio points to the ladder.

As soon as my hands and feet touch the cold metal, I am glued in place, unable to move a single muscle or even to blink until I am lifted safely inside the hovercraft. I hear, rather than see, a second ladder bringing Clio up beside me. She steps round into my line of vision at the same time as another woman in a white coat also appears.

'I'm going to inject your tracker.' Of course; the way that the Gamemakers keep track of the tributes in the arena. I try to flinch as the needle breaks the skin of my right forearm but I am still frozen in place. I feel a sharp pain as the needle inserts the tiny metal tracking device deep under the skin. Short of cutting it out, there is no way of removing it. The Gamemakers will never lose a tribute in that way.

We glide over the city, gaining height quickly until the rainbow coloured streets below merge into a haze of nondescript browns and greys. Clio pressures me into eating breakfast but I am barely halfway through the first plate of stew when my stomach contracts and I am forced to dash to the toilet for the food to make a violent reappearance. Afterwards, Clio gives me another white pill to help with the nausea. I hesitate; I'm only just regaining full mental capacity after the sleeping tablet that I took last night so who knows what this one will do to me? Clio doesn't press the point and slips the pill back into her pocket.

We are nearly three quarters' of an hour into the ride when the windows black out, telling me that we are approaching the arena. My nerves quadruple; with no view to distract me, my mind is suddenly focused purely on fear. After a long ten minutes that feels more like ten hours, the motion of the hovercraft changes and I realise that we've arrived. The ladder lowers us through a dark tube and into a utilitarian area of grey concrete and fluorescent lights.

A Peacekeeper shows us to my Launch Room and for the second time in under an hour I taste bile in my mouth as my stomach flips. I am the only tribute who will use this room; after the Games the arena will become a site of historical interest that Capitol citizens will visit on vacation. They will visit the locations of the killings and take part in re-enactments of the most impressive scenes. The thought is repulsive.

I shower and then Clio braids my damp hair tightly to my head, securing the thin braids with tiny black elastics. My outfit arrives; first comes black cotton underwear and then, over the top, brown trousers with a sturdy black belt and a black top. Both the trousers and the top are lined with a thin layer of fleece. Then comes a pair of dark green waterproof over-trousers, and a matching jacket. Finally, I put on a pair of lightweight hiking boots made of soft brown leather with thin rubber soles.

'It's going to be cold and damp,' Clio says unnecessarily, as she hands me Rue's good luck charm. I shiver in anticipation as I tuck the charm under the top; living in District Eleven has given me no experience of cold and I'm not sure how well I will cope with it.

'I think that you ought to try and eat something?' Clio phrases it like a question so I shake my head in reply; I have no wish to throw up again. I compromise with a glass of red juice that I sip slowly. After a few minutes, my hand is shaking so hard that the glass trembles against my front teeth.

'Maya, what has happened to you is…' I look up in surprise at Clio as she bites her lip, trying to find the right word. '…it's not pleasant.' She says finally. 'I'm sorry that this has happened to you and…' She crosses over to the couch and hugs me. I'm glad that she can't see my face because I can't hide the surprise and confusion that I am feeling; perhaps some Capitol citizens do have a soul after all.

We stay like that until a female voice rings out from hidden speakers in the ceiling announcing that it's time for the launch. I'm shaking so hard that Clio has to pull me over to the metal plate that will lift me into the arena.

'Th-thank you f-for h-helping…' The words tremble in time with my shivers.

'Remember the strategy, little fairy girl…' There's a brightness in Clio's eyes that catches me by surprise again. 'I hope that we'll meet again, it's been…' And then the glass cylinder slips down around me, cutting off her words.

I rise through a dark tube for about twenty seconds before I feel the glass walls receding and a breeze on my face. As thin sunlight hits me, a voice rings out around me.

'Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-third Hunger Games begin!'

* * *

Hope you enjoy. Did you like the last chapter?


	9. Running

**Running**

Sixty seconds... simultaneously it is agonisingly long and far too short. We are here; we have arrived in the arena and in less than a minute I will have to run. I stare around wildly, trying to work out where we are: The tributes are standing in a wide half circle around the enormous, carved horn; the Cornocopia. We are in a valley with steep wooded slopes rising up on either side of us. In front of us, behind the carved golden horn, is a perfectly circular lake and beyond that tall cliffs of grey slate rise up to jagged peaks. A stream runs out of the mouth of the lake. Just before it reaches the Cornocopia, it splits and runs down on either side. There's nowhere to hide up there and I turn on my metal plate to look back down the valley. The two streams circle the tributes before they join together again and further down the valley I can see that a third stream combines as well; by now the small stream has grown into a wide river. The valley that opens out beneath us is covered with sparse trees and the tumbledown remains of an old village and in the far distance I can see a wide expanse of grey water where the arena must end.

I shiver and turn back to the Cornocopia, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant misty rain, falling from the bank of dark rain clouds above us. It sticks to my hair, plastering it to my head and I fumble for the strings on my hood. Directly above me is a thin break in the cloudbank and a piercing ray of sunlight illuminates my plate. It feels like a good omen.

Thirty seconds… for the first time I remember Sheb's instructions and my eyes fly around the half circle of tributes until I find him. He is twelve tributes away from me but even so his eyes burn into mine. His glare tells me pointedly that I ought to have looked for him thirty seconds ago. Almost imperceptibly he nods towards the wooded slopes behind me. I give a minute nod to show that I have understood.

Twenty seconds... I take a closer look at the Cornocopia. It's mouth is piled high with weapons of all variety and boxes and bags of food, shelter material, medicine… all the things that will help us to stay alive in this arena. The gifts decrease in value as they get closer to us. My eyes fall on a brown leather rucksack ten meters away. Is it meant for me? I scan the ground and I am almost sure that no other tribute has a bag quite so close. I remember the tall female Gamemaker who was one of the most enthusiastic about my demonstration at my individual assessment and wonder if she placed the rucksack there.

Fifteen seconds… Sheb told me to get out of here as soon as I could but… my eyes dart around the other tributes again; I'm fast and I'm sure that I'm able to grab the bag and run before any of the other tributes get close to me.

Ten seconds… standing on the plate beside me is the blind girl from District Nine, Maisie. Her head turns towards me, almost as if she senses my eyes on her. A sudden, blinding smile lights up her face and then she takes a small, deliberate step off the metal plate. As if in slow motion, I see her foot come down on a tussock of rough grass. Her knee trembles as it takes her weight. And then, just when I think that nothing will happen, the ground explodes.

My scream is drowned out by the buried mines. Chunks of warm flesh and cool earth fly through the air, hitting my exposed face and I throw up my hands to shield my eyes. I am trembling so violently that I can barely stand but I lock my knees in place; if I fall off my plate then I will go the same way as Maisie. She stepped off the plate… _stepped off_… my mind has trouble accepting what has just happened.

The air clears and the gong goes off. For a few seconds we are all frozen where we stand, staring at the empty plate which until seconds ago held a living, breathing girl. Then one of the Career tributes gives a wild yell and jumps to the ground and the spell is broken.

I hit the ground running, my feet flying across the rough grass. I reach down to grab the bag and swing it up onto my back as I turn to run back the way I came. As I sprint past my metal plate, I stumble on a grass tussock and fall to my knees. My hands slam into the ground, my left hand coming down on a thistle and my right onto something hard. My hand closes around the object as I scramble to my feet and take off again. I feel a surge of adrenaline fuelled power thrilling through my legs as someone's hand caresses against my back. I half turn; the boy from Nine, Maisie's District partner, is writhing and choking out blood and his arm must've touched me as he fell. There's an arrow lodged through his throat.

I gasp and speed up, not looking back again to see who is shooting the arrows. I jump down the bank and I splash across the stream, up to my knees in murky peat-filled water. About half way across, I slip on the slimy bottom and fall again. Icy water trickles down my neck and up under my shirt but the waterproof clothing has protected me from the worst of it. I struggle to my feet, almost losing my balance again and clamber up the bank on the other side of the stream.

I run across the remains of an orchard, jumping the dry stone wall at either end. The trees here tell me that it is early summer. Tiny green swellings on the branches promise apples in three months' time. In front of me is one of the tumbledown cottages; one remaining wall made from light grey sandstone with damp green moss in the cracks between the stones, and a large pile of rubble. The remains of a chimney rises above me, complete with a single chimneypot. I don't hesitate to look at it closely as I sprint past.

The ground gets steeper as I hit the trees and my stride shortens, the air tearing in and out of my lungs in time with my steps. The trees here are beech and the smooth grey trunks have a calming effect on my frayed nerves. The ground is littered with brown leaf skeletons and they crunch beneath my boots. It is far too open for my liking; beech woods are very beautiful but they are also very sterile and the ground is devoid of any plant matter, leaving me with no place to hide. My steps falter and I strain my ears to hear if anything or anyone else is moving near me. Sheb told me to get into the tree line and to wait for him but I don't feel safe on the ground; I'm too exposed.

I open my clenched fist, surprised to find that I am still holding on to the hard object that I picked up when I fell by the Cornocopia. My heart slows as I stare at the thing in the centre of my palm; it's a tiny crystal heart, threaded onto a short piece of frayed silk ribbon, stained dark with spilt blood. I recoil sharply, almost dropping the thing in my horror; this must be Maisie's token. It must've been around her neck when she was blown to bits by the mines.

I want to throw the thing away but somehow I can't seem to do it. It would be too disrespectful because this is a piece of Maisie. A part of the girl who refused to play the Games on anyone's terms but her own. The girl who defied the Gamemakers in the only way that she could. It should be returned to her parents, but since it's unlikely that I'll ever see anything outside of this arena, I'll settle for something else; I take a small step forwards and tie the charm to a tiny beech sapling, growing in the shadow of the huge trees above: Let this tiny tree grow and thrive in a way that Maisie never could.

I walk for a further five minutes before selecting a tree with a trunk slim enough for me to swarm up. As soon as I reach the green canopy, I feel safer and I swing my leg over a thin branch and make myself comfortable. I can still hear distant shouts and screams from the battle but slowly, I also become aware of other noises nearer to me; birds sing in the canopy around me and something is rustling through the leaves below me on the ground. I tense as I hear footsteps and peer down through the branches. Whispered voices tell me that it isn't Sheb and I freeze as a boy and girl appear. It takes me a couple of seconds to recognise the tributes from District Eight. Both are bloodstained and the girl's waterproof jacket hangs in rags down her back as if it was ripped as she ran away. Neither have packs and I clutch mine tighter to myself, willing Sheb not to come now because I don't want this to end in a fight. The couple pass under my tree and continue on up the slope. I watch them out of sight before I let myself relax again.

A streak of black and white flies across the corner of my vision and I smile as I remember Sheb's third instruction. I made a mess of the first two so it's the least I can do to follow this one; use the mockingjays. I listen hard for a few seconds to ensure that nobody else is close, before I whistle the four note tune that we sing at quitting time in the orchards. Since we are usually the highest in the trees it is generally Rue or I who see the flag that tells us that it's time to stop work. If one of us sings this tune, then very soon all the mockingjays in the area pick it up and this tells all the other workers that we can stop. Very soon, the air around me is full of bird whistles; the notes colliding with each other in a beautiful harmony that reminds me so badly of home that I feel my eyes tearing up. Gradually the sound diminishes as the birds pick up other melodies. I sing it to them two more times until I hear another human-made four note melody oozing through the foliage. Relief washes over me and I swarm back down the tree trunk to meet my brother.

I hear him before I see him. His feet pound through the dry leaves making a rhythmic crunching and I slip behind the trunk of a beech tree, just in case that it isn't him. He comes into view almost immediately, running hard with his head down, pounding up the slope so fast that I don't know where he found the breath to whistle to the birds. In one hand he holds a curved sword and the other is holding a long bladed knife. On his back is a large pack made of some artificial, black material.

'Run… think I was followed…' He grabs the pack off my back and throws it over his shoulder.

We run uphill for a couple of miles, Sheb matching his pace to mine. The trees gradually turn from beech to pine, interspersed with oak and ash. I try to concentrate on them as we run past because my calf muscles are burning and my lungs feel as if I'm sucking in hot ash and I honestly don't know how long I will be able to keep up this pace.

The rain turns to a heavy drizzle as we run. Down here, we are protected from the worst of it but occasional drops make it through the thick canopy above. They soothe my hot face and hands and I lick my lips, wetting my parched tongue and throat.

'Stop…' I bend over and my lungs spasm as I try to suck in oxygen. 'Can't… run… anymore…' I can barely speak.

'We have to keep moving, Maya.' Sheb's voice catches on the last word. When I finally manage to straighten my back, I take a close look at him and see that his lips are trembling.

'What happened?' He gives a harsh, bitter laugh and I take an automatic step backwards, uneasy around this new brother that I have never seen before.

'I…' Sheb swallows and then his legs give way and he collapses onto the trunk of a fallen tree. He drops the weapons and puts his head in his hands. 'I killed her… I didn't want to but…' My stomach drops at his words but I edge closer to him and place a hand on his trembling shoulders.

'Sheb, we're in the arena.' As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back; they sound so lacking in even a shred of comfort and support. In the arena we all know that it's kill or be killed, but that's not why I said it: I was trying to remind my brother that there's no such thing as a 'private' moment to cry over what you've been forced to do and showing emotion over the deaths of your enemies will not win you any sponsors. But then I have not had to kill and I don't know how I would feel if I knew that I was responsible for taking someone's life away. I bite my lip and lower my voice.

'What happened? Who was it?'

'The girl… from Six… I'd gone in to get… the sword and the… pack… coming back out… she was just _there_… tried to stab me…'

'Sheb…'

'Don't tell me that it was self-defence!' Sheb snaps, finally looking up. I see that his face is wet but I don't know if it's from rain, sweat or tears.

'But it was,' I say weakly.

'I didn't think, Maya! I just lashed out! What does that make me?' I blanche; I honestly don't know the answer to his question.

'Sheb, she was going to kill you,' I say firmly, after a long pause. 'If you hadn't reacted then you'd be dead and I'd be on my own in the arena.' I shiver, partly at the thought and partly because now that we've stopped running it's chilly. Another thought comes to my mind and I shiver again. 'Who followed you?'

'Ruby saw me leave but she must've gone back to the fight.' I strain my ears but we are now too far away to hear the bloodbath. We haven't heard any cannons yet either which suggests that it is still going on.

'We should keep moving,' I say, picking up the curved sword and running my fingers over the smooth hilt. To my relief, Sheb's shoulders straighten and he nods.

'Let's just look through the packs. Yours first…'

I crouch down and unbuckle the straps of my pack. The leather is stiff and new but I know that the rain will soften it in no time. The first thing that I pull out is a thin black sleeping back in a waterproof cover. It's made from the same material as my jacket and I know that it is designed to reflect body heat. I sigh; the Gamemakers obviously have no plans to change the weather and I can already feel the cold and damp seeping into my bones.

The next thing my hand reaches feels like a stiff leather belt and I gasp as I draw it out; there are four sheaths hanging from it and each holds a small knife with a weighted handle, perfect for throwing. I buckle it around my waist, immediately feeling less vulnerable.

I then pull out a thick fleece jumper. I know without trying it on that it will fit perfectly. Stuffed in the pocket is a pair of gloves and a spare pair of socks. Then comes a water skin, a box of matches and a large roll of camouflage tarpaulin. The final object fits so snugly in the bottom of the bag that I have to prise it free. When I finally get it out, I see that it is a rectangular leather case with a zip running around three sides. When I open it, the case folds out in two halves, each filled with first-aid supplies. There are tablets for fever and infection, iodine, sterile dressings and bandages... there's also a small pouch containing a tiny curved needle and thread.

The contents of Sheb's pack are far less personal. Inside we find another sleeping bag and another, larger, roll of tarpaulin. There's a bag of desiccated food; pasta, grain, dried fruit and oats, a large two litre plastic water bottle, more matches, a metal pot for cooking, a coil of wire for snares and a coil of thin rope. The final two items are a pair of night vision glasses, like the ones we are given to work in the orchard during the harvest, and a large sealed bottle full of some sort of liquid. Closer examination revels some sort of liquid fuel, probably kerosene or something similar. Added to this we have a loaf of bread that Sheb removes from the front of his jacket and the weapons he picked up; the curved sword and the long hunting knife.

Mid-afternoon, we stop again by a small stream to rest and rehydrate. By now I am exhausted, even though we have now crossed the watershed and are heading down the other side of the hill. The slopes are still wooded but the trees here are smaller and closer together. The canopy is less thick though and it offers less protection against the rain and although I am wearing waterproofs and several thick layers underneath, I still feel cold and damp.

'We should probably look for something to eat; we don't want to go into our precious stocks just yet.' I know that plants will form the majority of our diet here in the arena because neither of us has much practice in hunting or snaring animals.

'Shall we have a look around…?' My question is cut off by the distant boom of a cannon. The sound echoes; down here in the valley under the cover of the trees I can't see the line of jagged peaks but I assume that is what is bouncing the sound waves. The cannon is followed by another and then another and another… the bloodbath must finally be over and now the Gamemakers are tallying the deaths. Nine tributes dead… nine children who will never grow up… never marry… never have kids themselves. I feel a wave of sadness threatening to drown me and quickly get to my feet to search for food; I will not let them see me cry.

* * *

Thanks for my reviews so far; please keep them coming. I'm going to tell you the deaths as Maya knows about them.

**THE FALLEN**

Girl from Six (Megan)

Boy from Nine (Rye)

Girl from Nine (Maisie)


	10. First night

**First night **

'Sheb?' I call out quietly. He's at my side in an instant.

'What is it?'

'I think it's ready.' I poke dubiously at the stew with the point of one of my throwing knives. It doesn't smell particularly appetising; earthnut roots and wood-sorrel with a handful of our precious oats to thicken it up a bit. I pull on one of my gloves to protect my hand from the heat of the fire and gingerly push the pot out of the flames.

Sheb sighs, 'I suppose we should put out the fire then.' He grabs a fistful of damp earth and sprinkles it over the flames. The fire spits in protest and I take a step backwards out of range.

It's early evening by now and we decided that the rapidly falling dusk along with the drizzle would hide any smoke from the fire. It's a shame that we have to put it out though because as the light fades, the colder it seems to get. The wind has also increased and the canopy above us is bending and twisting, no longer protecting us from the rain in any way. I built the fire under an overhanging boulder while Sheb scouted around for somewhere for us to make camp. Despite Sheb telling Seeder and Chaff that I have a way with fire, it took me quite a bit more effort than it usually does; it was hard to find any dry kindling because the damp seems to have seeped in everywhere.

We eat in silence for some minutes; the stew actually doesn't taste too terrible even after all that delectable Capitol food that we've been consuming. I run the point of my knife gently over the palm of my hand, thinking hard; nine tributes dead, over a third of us gone already. As if in result of my thoughts, a distant cannon shot rings out. It echoes once, and then again before diminishing into silence.

'It's not in this valley,' my voice sounds cold and emotionless. 'Who do you think it was?' I can't help but ask the question even though Sheb won't know the answer so I'm surprised when he answers immediately.

'It might be the boy from Three; I saw him stagger away from the Cornocopia just before the girl from Six…' Sheb pauses, focusing on digging out a piece of earthnut out of the bottom of the pot. '…anyway, he had an arrow through is shoulder.' He shakes his head as if to clear it. 'Or I suppose it could be that the Careers have found a victim.' Silence falls between us and it bothers me more than I thought it would; at home we were never at a loss for a topic of conversation and any silences were comfortable rather than awkward. Ever since the reaping, our relationship has been strained and I know that it will never go back to what it was.

'Who was shooting arrows?' I ask, thinking back to training; I don't remember seeing anyone using the archery station.

'Quartz, the girl from Two. She's not brilliant but she's good enough at close range...' I have to say that I'm impressed by Sheb's ability to remember the tributes' names. I didn't bother to learn them; I didn't even try to get to know any of the others because I didn't want to form any attachments, not when we were about to be pitted against each other in the arena. It was bad enough that I felt so sorry for Maisie… I bite down on my lip and change the subject abruptly.

'We should probably find somewhere to make camp, Sheb. I don't think that the weather is going to get any better.' I squint up at the sky; through the wildly thrashing branches I can see a thick bank of purple storm clouds that promise something more than just rain.

'I've found the perfect tree but…' Sheb gestures up at the threshing canopy and I nod reluctantly; I feel vulnerable on the ground but trying to sleep in a tree in this near-hurricane is a suicide wish.

'Finish the stew,' I stand up and walk behind a tree so that I can relieve myself in private, well as private as you can get in the arena… I suppress a shudder as I pull up my trousers; although the Gamemakers don't usually show tributes doing this sort of thing, occasionally they do cut over to it, probably just to show that they can...

By the time I return, Sheb has used a stick to knock the embers of our fire into the stream. I grab a couple of handfuls of damp leaf matter and spread it over the fire pit and then I use another handful to wipe the soot stains off the overhanging rock. By the time we've finished, the site of our first meal in the arena looks like we were never here at all.

We follow the stream down the steep, rocky slope for a mile or two until it joins with another at the bottom of the valley. In the v where the two streams meet is a large patch of huge rhododendron bushes. There's very little light left under the cover of the trees, which are pine and conifer here, and Sheb and I both head for the centre of the bushes without even consulting one another for confirmation. Working silently and as seamlessly as if we have practised before, we spread the smaller tarpaulin over the thick bed of decaying leaf matter that carpets the ground. The waxy rhododendron leaves around us protect us from the worst of the rain but Sheb ties the larger tarpaulin to the branches above us anyway, curling it down behind our backs so that it protects us from the wind. Underneath the bushes, it is almost fully dark and I unroll the sleeping bags by feel, stuffing each one into its waterproof cover. I pull my rucksack onto my back before I slide fully clothed into one of the sleeping bags. I feel Sheb slide into the one next to me and I lean into him for warmth, shuddering luxuriously as I start to thaw-out for the first time in hours.

'Sheb… I'm… so… tired but one… of us should keep watch…' My words are punctuated by huge, jaw-breaking yawns; now that we've stopped moving and I am lying down in the darkness, relatively warm and comfortable I can barely keep my eyes open.

'I'll take the first watch,' Sheb says, as if he has a choice; we both know that I will be asleep in less than a minute.

The anthem of Panem suddenly reverberates around us and I peer out from under the leaves in anticipation as the seal of Panem appears in mid-air above us, presumably supported by one of the Capitol's invisible hovercraft. Two words appear underneath it: _The Fallen._

Then come the faces; the boy from Three is up first followed by the girl from Four. That comes as a slight surprise because usually all the Career tributes make it through the bloodbath. Her picture is followed by the boy from Five and then both from Six… I hear a quiet sigh beside me and I reach out for Sheb's hand. When I find it, I give it a tight squeeze. Both tributes from District Nine, Maisie and her District partner… Sierra from Ten and finally both from Twelve. I swallow down the lump that arises in my throat as the music fades; ten children who will never see their homes again. Ten families who are grieving tonight…

My family… I am suddenly thinking of Saffy and our father back at home. My arms ache, desperate to tighten around my sister and her bump. Sheb's hand tightens around my own as if he is thinking the same thing.

'Can I see the locket?' I reach my free hand out of the warmth of the sleeping bag. Sheb's hand finds it and guides me to the locket and my fingers run over the smooth oval, tracing the engraved letters before finding the catch and prising the two halves apart on the stiff metal hinge. I don't need light to see the pictures inside; my sister's face swims in front of my eyes, followed by my mother's and my father's. Surrounded by leaves and darkness, I know that it will be hard for the cameras to find my face so I let myself shed one tear as I think of my family.

'I miss them too,' Sheb murmurs, sliding the silver oval out of my hand and snapping it shut. 'Come on Maya; snuggle down and get some sleep. If your hand is as cold as the rest of you then you must be nearly…' A sudden bright light suddenly illuminates our hide, cutting off his words. I get one quick glimpse of Sheb's surprised face before the light is gone. _Lightening_… it was just lightening... I breathe in and out rapidly, trying to slow my thrumming heart. I have just succeeded when a deafening clap of thunder rolls across the arena. It seems to go on for ever, echoing across the sky and bouncing off the mountains and back again in an ear-splitting discord.

'Try and get some sleep,' Sheb says softly when the noise has faded. I hear a small click as he puts the night vision glasses over his eyes.

The thunder storm lasts for about an hour. Even though I am exhausted, the thunder and lightning make it impossible to drop off. In between thunder claps we sit in silence, speaking only to wonder aloud what time it is and when the storm will finally end.

I don't know when I finally slide into unconsciousness but I find myself lying in a small clearing, ringed by ancient, gnarled, oak trees. I look up into the thick darkness above and my eyes find a gap in the cloud bank. The silver face of a full moon peeps out and a thin shaft of silvery moonlight illuminates the clearing. It's both magical and ethereal but as I stare the clouds roll in and I am plunged in darkness once more. The anthem of Panem suddenly echoes across out of the darkness and the Capitol seal appears in the sky above me. Abruptly, the dream becomes a nightmare. _The Fallen… _and then my picture appears in the sky, the words _District Eleven_ underneath it.

I jerk violently into wakefulness to find myself in our hide under the rhododendrons. I shiver and pull myself into a sitting up position. The grey light of dawn illuminates my surroundings; my breath rising in small clouds in front of my face as it condenses in the frozen air, the glittering web of silvery frost that clings to everything and my brother, dozing with his head pillowed in his hands. I slide cautiously out of my sleeping bag, taking care not to jostle my brother; he's let me sleep for far too long and it's his turn to get some rest now. I duck out of the hide and push my way through the bushes until I am standing in the open. For the first time since we entered the arena, it is not raining but I can see that the sky is still heavy with clouds. My surroundings are bathed in dew and the droplets sparkle in the thin rays of sunlight that penetrate through the thick clouds above. I breathe in deeply, calmed by the scents of damp leaf matter, pine forests and woodland plants.

When I get to the stream I pull off my gloves and stuff them into my pocket before washing my hands and face in the freezing water and taking a couple of mouthfuls. The icy water is so cold that it makes my skull and teeth ache but at least I am wide awake and my blood is moving. It's far too cold to do more thorough washing so I follow the stream for a few hundred meters, searching for something edible that we can have for breakfast. I'm rewarded when I find a small water bird sitting on her clutch of eggs. She takes to the air, squawking loudly. The noise startles me and I look around in alarm, just to make sure that there's no one near. Although I feel bad for taking her eggs, we have to eat to survive so I take the three eggs and put them carefully in the pocket of my jacket before making my way back to Sheb.

'Maya!' I hear a low call and I start to run; calling out in the arena is dangerous. Even if there aren't any tributes nearby, the noise could attract animal predators or something. I enter the rhododendron glade at a sprint and I find Sheb looking around wildly with the curved sword in one of his hands. When his eyes find me, he visibly relaxes.

'Don't do that!' He steps forwards, crushing me into his chest with his free arm. 'I thought…'

'I found us breakfast,' I say in my defence, and I pull away and reach into my pocket for one of the eggs. 'It would be nice to cook them but I don't think we should risk a fire, not while there's no rain to hide the smoke.' I hand two of the eggs to my brother and bite the top off the third one, spitting out the shell and licking up the insides as they try to escape. I shake my head when Sheb tries to offer me the other egg; a whole egg to myself is a rarity back at home so I'm more than satisfied by my breakfast although it probably seems meagre to Capitol citizens.

'You should probably get another hour or two's sleep; you can't have got more than a couple of hours.' Sheb blushes slightly.

'I know that I should've woken you, Maya but I didn't want to…'

'Sheb,' I interrupt gently, 'look, we're a team. I know that you want to protect me and that's okay but…' I pause, thinking of how to phrase this in a way that my brother will actually listen to. '…but you can't protect me if you're like a zombie from no sleep. You're not a machine. Come on; I'll keep watch.'

I look towards the hide, pleased to see that the camouflage tarpaulins blend in with the surrounding foliage; the only reason that I know it's there is because I'm looking for it. I turn my head on one side, trying to look at it from a Career perspective.

'You're right, Maya.' Sheb leans down and kisses the top of my head before ducking into the bushes. I follow because although I plan on keeping watch, the temperature is freezing and I figure that I might as well do so from the comfort of my sleeping bag.

After two or three hours, the rain starts to fall again and the temperature increases slightly. I unzip the sleeping bag a few inches but the icy air hits me and I immediately do it up again, pulling it up around my ears. I wait for what I think is another couple of hours before I reach over and shake Sheb gently by the shoulder. He yawns and stretches and I'm pleased to see that he looks a lot better for the rest.

'I was thinking last night that we should probably move on, Maya.' My heat sinks slightly as I peer out into the damp drizzle beyond our hide; it's the sort of rain that doesn't look like much but will have you soaked in minutes if you go out in it. 'We followed a stream down into the valley to get here and, I dunno, but this junction between two streams seems like the perfect rendezvous point if the Careers are hunting in a pack which I'm guessing that they are… maybe we should move somewhere less conspicuous…'

'Okay.' I nod and climb reluctantly out of my sleeping bag and start rolling it up tightly. 'Do we go up the hillside on the other side of the valley or should we follow the water up or down this valley?' I bite my lip as I remember the jagged peaks and steep cliffs behind the Cornocopia. This valley could be similar and, if I'm honest, then I'd rather not move upwards to where the valley will narrow and potentially end in steep cliffs; I have a vision of our escape being cut off and being trapped between an ambush and a cliff.

'Let's follow the stream down,' Sheb suggests. 'We can gather as we go.' As if in response to his words, my stomach growls loudly. We had breakfast at about half past five this morning it's now well past midday. Sheb grins and reaches into his bag for the loaf of bread. I cut us both a thick slice before wrapping it up in my spare jumper and balancing it on top of the sleeping bag in my pack.

We follow the stream down into the valley. About half a mile down, the forest turns to thick pine and we speed up, moving quickly and silently over the thick bed of pine needles. There's nothing growing here and no reason to linger. Even so, I gather a couple of handfuls of dry pine needles and stuff them into the pocket of my coat; they'll make good kindling next time we need to light a fire.

The trees start to get thicker and progress becomes slower as we fight to move between the branches that reach almost to the ground. In the end, we start to walk through the stream itself. The stream bed is slippery with a thick brown slime of algae and we have to go by feel, treading carefully through the rushing water because it's impossible to see where you're putting your feet.

The ground around us gradually becomes less steep and the pine woods become interspersed with pockets of other trees. We are walking through a grove of oak and beech when I hear a rustling in the foliage behind us. I crouch down, surprised and pleased to see a tiny baby rabbit; where there's one rabbit, there could be many and we decide to stop so that Sheb can set a few snares and I can do some gathering.

The air is pungent with the scent of garlic and I go hunting for the source of the smell and come across a small patch of tiny garlic shoots. In a couple of weeks, this area will be green with garlic plants but we can't wait that long and I chop off the tip of each shoot, taking care to leave the roots intact so that the plant can grow back. Further on I find a clump of mushrooms and although I'm fairly certain that they're edible, I inspect them from every angle before I pick them; mushrooms are delicious but they can be deadly poisonous. The trainer at the edible plants section in the gymnasium was clear that we should only eat fungi that we were certain about.

Despite the fungi and the garlic shoots, I'm disappointed by the profits of my gathering. Sheb is still setting snares around the area and I leave him to it and cross the river to see if there's a more plentiful bounty on the other side.

I'm delighted to find a huge patch of young nettles. I exhale a sigh of relief; this is brilliant. With this crop I can make enough nettle soup to keep us going for days. It wouldn't matter if Sheb's snares fail or if I can't find any other plants... I smile in anticipation and pull on my gloves because I know that stings from young nettle plants can be vicious.

I pull my tarpaulin out of my pack and lay it on the ground. Then I start to pick the nettles, cutting them off near the ground with a knife and laying them on the tarpaulin. I am about halfway through what I intend to gather today when I feel a stinging pain across my left wrist. I bite down on my tongue to prevent myself from screaming out loud and stagger backwards, away from the nettles, to inspect the damage: The sleeve of my jacket must've ridden up without my noticing it while I was picking the nettles and there's a shiny red welt running right around my wrist. I pull off my glove, sickened to see that my hand is starting to swell.

I clasp my arm to my chest, unable to stop the whimpers that are rapidly turning into moans; it feels like I've dipped my hand and arm in an acid bath; the nettle stings are poisonous, more poisonous than I could've anticipated...

* * *

As always, please let me know what you think.

**THE FALLEN**

Boy from Three (Fuse)

Girl from Four (Netta)

Boy from Five (Spark)

Boy from Six (Remus)

Girl from Ten (Sierra)

Boy from Twelve (Troy)

Girl from Twelve (Ash)


	11. Paralysed

**Paralysed**

Pain. Like a white hot flame burning up and down my arm. I can't move… I can't think… I am curled in a foetal position on the damp ground, clutching my hand into my chest.

Footsteps. I try to roll onto my knees so that I can face my attacker but the movement causes my stomach to contract and I lose what little food remains in my stomach from my meagre lunch.

'Maya!' Somewhere, in the midst of the pain, I feel myself relaxing; it's just Sheb. 'What's wrong? Where does it hurt?' I resist feebly as he pulls my arms away from my body because the movement is excruciating.

'Nettles… poison…' I cough weakly, spitting out the foul tasting liquid that still fills my mouth.

'Let me see.' Gently he pulls my bad arm towards him. 'This is bad Maya.' I try to nod but my head spins and black dots start to crowd across my eyes, blurring Sheb's concerned face.

'Let me see… in the first aid…' His voice crackles and fades like a badly tuned radio. 'Hang…' I fight to hold onto the things that tell me that I am still here; the smell of pine needles… the hard tree roots digging into my back… the sound of birdsong… even the pain radiating up and down my arm. As these things get further away the harder I fight. I am unwilling to give in to the darkness... I am afraid that I might never wake up...

* * *

My senses return slowly, one by one. I smell damp earth and green things and the sharp smell of wood smoke. I hear the rustle and snap as something moves through the undergrowth nearby and the snap and crackle of a fire. I taste the bitterness of bile on my tongue.

'Maya?' I open my eyes to find my brother's face inches from my own. I am lying in one of the sleeping bags underneath a pine tree on a soft bed of dry pine needles. 'Oh Maya! Thank God…' He wraps his arms tightly around me before pulling me into a sitting up position. The second that his hands leave me, I topple over again, caught off balance.

'How do you feel?' I push myself upright again with my good arm but I nearly lose my balance again.

'What?' Fear thrills through me; I feel lopsided as though my arm is missing. I look down, surprised to see it hanging limply in its sleeve. Near my wrist, Sheb has wound back both the jacket and the under top and there is a crisp new bandage wrapped over my arm and hand. My good hand prods the stiff white linen, gently at first and then harder; I feel nothing. Truly alarmed, I try to move my fingers; nothing.

'My hand!'

'What's wrong?' Sheb picks up my hand with both of his own, and looks at it closely. My arm moves as he pulls it closer to his face for inspection but I feel nothing.

'I can't feel it, Sheb! I can't feel it at all.' Tears blur my vision; how long will I survive in this arena if I'm semi-paralysed?

'Maya…' Sheb seems to be as speechless as I am. We stare wordlessly at my arm, almost as if we are hoping for a miracle. There's no point crying about something you can't fix but it still takes me some time to calm myself.

'How long… was I unconscious?' I fight to keep my voice steady; I will not go to pieces in front of the Capitol.

'Nearly…' Sheb swallows and reaches out as if to caress my face. He appears to think better of it and his hand drops to his side. 'About a day and a half, I think; I carried you here after you passed out. It's evening now.' I look around me; we are still near the pocket of oak and beech trees where the deadly stinging nettles grow. Sheb has attached the tarpaulins to the trees behind us but we aren't well hidden and I feel vulnerable. It would be all too easy for another tribute, following the stream up or down the valley to stumble onto us. I shiver at the thought and look up through the branches above me to distract myself; it isn't raining but there's a certain foreboding heaviness in the air around us that suggests we are in for more bad weather.

'Did… did I miss anything?' I am trying to keep the conversation neutral but my mind is whirling faster and faster, unable to believe… unable to accept the harsh truth that I have woken up to. Sheb shakes his head, biting his lip. I can see a brightness in the corner of his eye as he answers but the tears stay unshed.

'There was another thunderstorm last night though which could've masked the cannon. Oh and Seeder and Chaff sent you some medicine, some sort of salve.' He hands me a thin metal tube. The metal is rolled up and crooked where Sheb squeezed it to get out every last drop of the ointment inside. I turn it over in my hand, barely listening as Sheb continues to talk.

Paralysed… I try to flex my fingers, concentrating so hard that my head starts to ache. Nothing… the feeling will come back… it _has_ to… but there's no guarantee. This is the arena and the Gamemakers want as much drama as possible. There's no _has_ to about it.

'We should be prepared,' I look up to find my brother looking at me intently and I try to smooth out my desperate expression. 'We know that it's been nearly two days since the last death which means that the Gamemakers will be thinking of some way of pushing us closer together. I shudder, thinking of the possibilities; it could be fire or fog or some sort of muttation. Something is coming; I can feel it in my bones.

'Maya…' Sheb begins, his voice soft and full of emotion.

'We should probably move on…' I continue; I don't want to hear it… his pity won't help… I don't want to… I push my legs out of the sleeping bag; I don't want to stay here. It seems as if there is some horror lurking in the trees around us.

'Maya, your arm is paralysed… do you really think that it's a good idea…?'

'Sheb please…' I interrupt, shaking my head and staggering to my feet; my balance is still off and I have to grasp the spiky branch above us. A shower of dry pine needles cascades over us and I shake them out of my hair.

'I can walk,' I let go of the branch and test my balance; it's still dodgy but I'm already getting used to the lopsided feel of my body. 'We can go slowly,' I say, more confidently than I feel.

'At least have some food Maya. My snare caught a baby rabbit.' Sheb points towards the metal pot that sits by the ashes of a long-dead fire. I analyse my body's needs; my stomach feels unsettled but not hungry which is surprising since I haven't had anything to eat for over a day.

I dig my knife experimentally into the pot of cold rabbit stew; the stew has congealed slightly around the edges and as I stir it, the aromas of garlic and mushrooms rise up to meet me. Although this would be a feast back at home, my stomach contracts slightly and I shake my head; I'll wait until I feel less nauseous.

We continue on down the stream for about two miles. At first the slope is gradual but then we come to a place where the ground descends sharply, the stream turning into a series of steep, rocky waterfalls and small ravines. The trees here are all conifers; pine, spruce and fir because the ground is too steep for any other variety to be able to take root and grow.

By the time we make camp for the night in the hollow behind a fallen pine tree, the weather has deteriorated; the wind is howling through the branches around us and despite being cocooned close enough to touch each other in our sleeping bags, it is impossible to have a conversation. We eat the rest of the rabbit stew with the end of the loaf, taking it in turns to mop up the juice with slices of bread. By the time we have finished the food, the wind is so violent that we are forced to take down the tarpaulins above us for fear of losing them. Instead we wrap them around the sleeping bags, covering ourselves completely in a sort of two man bivouac. Although I feel trapped with my face covered by the tarpaulin, it actually feels quite snug and safe. The huge mass of earth and tree roots behind us protects us from the lashing rain and although the tarpaulins are thrashing in the wind, they are keeping us dry at the very least.

I don't know exactly when I slide into unconsciousness. All I know is that I am thrown violently into reality again as the earth seems to explode around me. I fight to free myself from the tarpaulin only to realise that the actuality of the situation is worse than being trapped under the plastic. Deafening cracks echo around us, some from the thunder above but, more terrifyingly, most from the trees around us as the wind snaps them as if they were matchsticks. Earth and branches rain down on us as the trees are picked up and then tossed aside. Lightning flashes give us brief glimpses of the tree-carnage around us.

I cower against Sheb, pulling the tarpaulin up around my ears. I want to run while we still can but at the same time I can see that would be just as dangerous as staying here, if not more so.

'Maya!' Sheb bellows, his mouth so close to my ear that his lips touch my hair. 'We have to stay here. If we try to move…!' Another crack, louder and closer than the rest interrupts him. My scream is drowned out as a thin streak of lightning hits a tree beside us, joining sky and earth by a line of fire. Rain douses the fire almost as soon as it ignites. The tree groans and then, as if in slow motion, it starts to fall. It's going to crush us…

Sheb throws his body over mine, knocking the air out of my lungs. Earth showers us. Wood clatters against wood above our entwined bodies. And then it's all over as quickly as it started. Sheb gradually moves his body off mine and I stare into the darkness above before reaching out gingerly with my good hand. My groping fingers find branches and wood.

It isn't until the morning, that daylight tells us the true horror of last night's storm. Fallen trees surround us, their roots torn up in huge rafts of earth. We were saved from being crushed by the roots of the tree that we made camp behind; the huge circle of earth and entwined roots prevented the lightning struck tree from falling on us. For the first time since we entered the arena, the sky is clear and the temperature has dropped accordingly; the water lingering from last night's storm has frozen where it stands so our surroundings are both macabre and beautiful. The two contrast starkly with each other.

Neither of us want to linger in this valley but escaping it is easier said than done; where there was once thick pine forest is now an almost impenetrable mess of roots, branches and fallen tree trunks. Navigating this obstacle course would be hard enough with two working hands but is next to impossible in my situation. It takes us all morning but then we finally reach a grove of standing oak trees and further on the unbroken line of green woodland. By now we are heading uphill and this worries me because we are heading back up over the ridge into the valley where the Games began and where the Careers have almost certainly made their encampment.

The temperature increases gradually as the day goes on and, mid-afternoon, I actually stop to remove my jumper and stuff it into the top of my pack to keep it dry; the little sky that I can see through the branches above looks thick with rain clouds again.

'Do you think the storm had the desired effect? To drive the tributes together.' I ask, speaking for the first time in hours. We have stopped by a small pond that contains a small crop of katniss roots and Sheb is filling his bag while I refill the water containers. The water is freezing on my bare hands.

'I don't know,' Sheb looks up, scratching his cheek without thinking and I suddenly find myself grinning; his hands were covered with mud from the bottom of the pond so he now looks like he's wearing an odd sort of war-paint. 'I don't see how anybody could've moved through that. I think it's far more likely that the storm was just the Gamemakers' way of livening things up a bit. The 'driving together' bit is still to come.' Sheb snorts before plunging his face into the pond. He resurfaces quickly and beckons me forward. 'Come on Maya; it's cold but good.'

Somewhat reluctantly, I move in and scoop up some water so that I can wash my face; I feel as if I'm covered from head to toe in grime and filth and I would dearly love to strip off and wash myself all over but that's impossible without catching hypothermia. My hands ache from the cold… I freeze… my hands ache… _both of them_. I am using both of my hands and I didn't even realise. I twitch the fingers of my left hand experimentally sucking in a deep, shaky, breath of pure relief as they move in response to my thought. It hurts and the movement is stiff and jerky but it's _there_.

My breath leaves in a sigh as I turn to Sheb. He can tell from my expression that something's happened.

'What?' Instead of telling him the good news, I burst into tears.

* * *

By early evening the rain has started again and we stop to cook the katniss tubers, trusting that the thick drizzle and rapidly falling dusk will hide any smoke from the fire. I wrap each one in a dock leaf before using one of my throwing knives to push it into the ashes of the fire. My left hand is stiff and clumsy and every movement sends a spike of pain through my hand and arm but I don't care; I have feeling again and that's the main thing.

While I cook, Sheb finds a damp leafy hollow ringed by tall fern and oak saplings. By now he is so practised in setting up our hide that it only takes him a couple of minutes to rig the tarpaulins. It looks cosy and I'm exhausted after last night's drama; I can feel my eyes closing as I stare into the flames of the fire. I hold my left hand out towards the warmth; it's still a novelty to feel heat on my fingertips.

Our fourth night in the arena: It seems almost ominous that we haven't yet seen hide nor hair of any other tribute. I can't imagine that this peace will last much longer; the audience in the Capitol must be chomping at the bit. The storm last night will have appeased them for a time but even if a tribute was killed last night, Capitol citizens much prefer tributes to die at the hands of one another.

By the time the food is ready, my stomach is growling; this is the first thing that I've eaten in twenty-four hours and I can't get the food into my mouth quickly enough. The tubers are piping hot and I burn my mouth and lips but it's almost impossible to slow down. It takes a lot of self-restraint to stop at two and to keep the remaining roots for breakfast tomorrow.

I use a handful of damp earth to douse the flames; even with the rain and darkness it's best not to take the chance that there's nobody nearby to see it. I stand up as a long, jaw-breaking yawn racks through me; I'm exhausted.

We settle down in our hollow and wait for the anthem; both of us are eager to know if anyone was killed in last night's crisis. I swallow saliva, suddenly feeling sickened at myself; I'm eager to find out if a child was killed or not. The thought is repellent and with it comes a horrible consideration; if I'm this eager to find out about the death of a fellow tribute, how am I really any different from the Capitol citizens? My dismal thoughts are interrupted by the anthem.

_The Fallen._

To my surprise, a picture of the boy from District Four shines down at us. I shudder; does that mean that the Careers were close to us last night? Having looked down at the scene of the destruction as we climbed up the hillside, I know that the area of tree carnage was only about a mile across. Could they really have been so close to us and we didn't realise? The thought is terrifying but there's also an undertone of pure relief; somehow we escaped unnoticed. Perhaps they were too caught up in the death of their fellow Career.

I fully expect District Four to be the only face up there tonight so I'm surprised when his picture is followed by the girl from Five. I can't remember anything about her. Not her name, her training score or even her interview and somehow this makes me sad; a girl has just died and I never even knew her name.

'Well two deaths ought to buy us one night's rest,' Sheb comments, pulling his sleeping bag up round his ears. I bite back the snappy retort that comes to my tongue; Sheb is thinking strategically but I know that deep down he must feel like I do. He's just better at pretending than I am. 'I'll take the first watch Maya.'

'Promise that you'll wake me up this time,' I say and Sheb nods soberly.

It's still dark when Sheb shakes me gently awake. I shudder; even with the sleeping bag, waterproof cover and jumper it's freezing and, surprise surprise, it's raining.

'I can't keep my eyes open any longer, Maya.' Sheb yawns widely and I start to yawn too; I've always believed that yawning is catching. 'Give me an hour or two.' I nod and prop myself up, biting back another yawn.

Sheb is unconscious in seconds and although he's close enough for me to touch I feel so alone now that he's no longer awake. I resist the temptation to reach out and touch him as I stare out into the inky blackness that surrounds us. It presses on my eyeballs and I shudder; back at home darkness never frightened me but this seems to have changed since I entered the arena.

I start to think of home; I imagine Rue high up in the trees and Dad smiling again, the smile that we haven't seen for so long. I imagine Sheb and I sitting at the scrubbed table eating bowls of mush before we leave for school. I wonder whether Saffron's baby is here yet. Then I remember that it's only been just over a week since we left home although it feels more like several months.

Grey light starts to seep under the branches above and the birds start to sing heralding the dawn. My eyes start to close but I prop them open; I want to give Sheb as long as possible.

The noise begins so gradually that I don't even notice it and when I do, I take it for the rustling of the wind through the leaves. At first it's a hushed whisper, but as it grows I stand up, trying to see what's making the noise. At first I can't see anything because the ferns shield us so completely. I push them aside and scream.

* * *

As always, please let me know what you think.

**THE FALLEN**

Boy from Four (Urchin)

Girl from Five (Leena)


	12. Colony

**Colony**

The ground is moving, swelling towards me in a mass of earth leaves and… and _ants_. Huge ants, as long as my middle finger… scuttling legs… razor sharp pincers… hungry black eyes…

'Sheb wake up!' I scramble backwards into the hollow and throw myself at his sleeping bagged form.

'Maya!' His hands swat blearily at the air but it takes less than a second for him to be fully awake.

'Run! There are… huge… ants…' My frenzied breathes punctuate the words and my heart is in my mouth.

Sheb leaps to his feet, staggering as his feet tangle in the sleeping bag.

'Run!' I grab my pack and shove it into the bottom of my sleeping back and throw the whole thing over my shoulder; there's no time for more elaborate packing. We have to get out of here. I can't imagine a worse death than being eaten alive by ants. Maybe death by fire… at a pinch…

We make it out of the hollow as the first ants push their way through the ferns. I can't help but glance over my shoulder repeatedly as we scramble up the hillside and I shudder every time; the ants are pouring after us, moving faster than I would've thought possible. They cover the ground in a sea of frantic movement. They swell effortlessly up the slope, somehow simultaneously moving as individuals and as one whole organism.

'Don't… look… back… run…' Sheb grabs the stuffed sleeping bag off my back and, without breaking his stride, he shoves it into his own. I scramble up the slope, my breath tearing in and out of my lungs in sharp gasps. But even after Sheb's words, I can't help but look back over my shoulder; the ants are gaining on us, the smell of fresh meat seems to have set them into a frenzy. The rustling of thousands upon thousands of insect legs moving across the ground is deafening and adrenaline thrills through my limbs and I push my legs to make myself run faster but it's hard because I'm tiring now...

Sweat pours down my face, mingling with rain that makes its way through the canopy above us. It stings as it runs into my eyes, almost blinding me so I go by feel, rather than sight. I'm using my hands as well as my feet by this point; scrambling on all fours up the slope. I gasp every time I breathe in, the breath rasping against my burning throat. _Come on_… I can't stop! I can't…

'Nearly… there…' I blink over at my brother, barely wondering what he means; how can we be nearly there? I shake my sweat-soaked hair out of my eyes and nearly fall as my left foot comes down in a rabbit hole. I pull it out, thanking whatever deity or divine being that made sure that I didn't twist it. My legs suddenly feel a change and I suddenly understand my brother's comment; we have almost crested the hill. The ground slopes downward from now on. Perhaps we really will be able to escape?

I push my legs over the top of the slope, hoping that running will be easier from now on but my knees feel wobbly, almost jellylike and they don't react well to the change in gradient. My right leg gives way and I suddenly find myself rolling head over heels down the slope. I come up against the trunk of a tree and suppress a groan as my back crashes against the wood; my back will be black and blue tomorrow… if I'm still alive tomorrow. I grimace and scramble to my feet, ignoring the ache in my joints.

'Don't stop!' My brother warns, grabbing my hand so that I have no choice but to run with him.

I can't help but take a quick glance over my shoulder even though our decent is so fast and dizzyingly uncontrolled that I really should be paying attention to my footing; the insects have crested the hill and there seem to be more of them than ever; the ground itself seems to be moving in an unbroken black tidal wave as far as the eye can see.

'Move!' Sheb pulls my arm so that I run faster.

The decent is fast and wild and I lose my footing more than once, sliding down the slope on my backside, more often than on my feet. Sheb hauls me to my feet more than once but I am not strong enough to do the same for him so when he falls, I go down too. I don't look back now… I'm near to dropping and I need every ounce of concentration that I possess to put one foot in front of the other.

Twenty minutes later we reach the tree line and the ground levels out slightly, the ground vegetation thinning, making it easier to run. We are back in the valley where the Games began; we have come out of the trees just beyond where the two streams that circle the Cornucopia join with the third. Directly in front of us is one of the ruined farms; just a few walls and numerous piles of fallen stone. We make towards it, thinking only of getting across the river to avoid the insects pursuing us. Sheb finally lets go of my hand, evidently thinking that I can run on my own from now on; we are so close to our goal. I push my legs for one final surge and a wave of dizziness threatens to drown me; I am exhausted.

I follow Sheb over the remains of a dry stone wall, landing awkwardly and falling to my hands and knees. Sheb turns and drags me to my feet again and we run across an overgrown vegetable patch and round behind the remaining wall of the farmhouse. And then we skid to a halt as we see exactly what we've run into…

The remaining air leaves my lungs in a strangled sob and I take a few steps backwards. We've been driven…

Behind the wall is a small collection of tents… a fire pit… a huge pile of stores…

The Careers base camp.

Exactly where the Gamemakers wanted us to end up.

'Maya, we have to get away before…' Sheb gasps and I spin round. His left hand flies to his throat before he moves it up to his eyes, an expression of half surprise flitting across his face. As I look on in horror, a large winged insect takes flight again. A flying ant…

I spin round, staring panic stricken up at the air around me, expecting another attack but there's nothing. The air is clear and there's no sign of any others. My eyes scan the ground, frantically searching for any movement but there's no sign there either. The ants have gone, disappeared…

'Maya…' I turn to my brother in time to see him crumple to the ground.

'Sheb!' I fall to my knees beside him; his eyes have rolled back into his head as he convulses on the ground in front of me. I touch the bite mark on his neck and I am horrified to find a lump the size of an plum just below is Adam's apple. His skin is already burning up.

I look around in panic. I don't know what to do. The Careers could return at any minute and when they do we will both be dead... maybe I should leave him? I am sickened by the thought, sickened by the fact that I even considered it. I can't leave him. I'd rather that we both die at the hands of the Careers. How could I even think that? I am repulsed to my very core.

We have to hide and we have to do it quickly but I know without trying that I won't be able to carry him to safety. I look around in desperation, my heart pounding as Sheb cries out again, thrashing on the ground in front of me. His arm flies up involuntarily and hits my jaw, causing me to bite my tongue. The sharp, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and I gag and spit. And then I see it; my only option. Twenty meters away, a thick tangle of brambles is growing up against the one remaining wall of what I assume used to be an outbuilding or stable of some sort. If I can roll or drag him over to it, then maybe, just maybe, we can hide here until he wakes up.

I jump to my feet and take one of his legs with both hands, pulling with all my strength. Sheb slides a few inches over the rough ground but then comes to an abrupt halt and I groan in frustration; his back is jammed by the two packs and his weapons. I quickly untangle his arms from the bags, and unhook the sheaths from his belt before trying again. This time, he slides nearly two feet before coming to a halt. This is no good; it's going to take forever to move him and I probably have only minutes before the Careers return or else the ant attack wouldn't have stopped; it was a device to drive us together and now we have to get out of sight before the others arrive.

I grab one of the tarpaulins from where Sheb stuffed it haphazardly into his sleeping bag and spread it on the ground beside him. Then, slowly, inch by inch I role my brother onto it. As I move him, his arms flail and he shouts out again as if he's in terrible pain. When I glance down, his face is sweaty and I see that his eyes are open. For a half a second I think that he's awake and a spike of joy ruptures through my chest. But then his eyes roll back in his head again and he screams and I realise that he's still unconscious. And hallucinating…

I turn my back on the bramble thicket and dig my heals into the damp ground, pulling at the tarpaulin with all my strength. Agonisingly slowly, it slides over the rough ground. I take a quick look over my shoulder; ten meters to go. Sweat trickles down my face, mingling with the drizzle that falls incessantly from the thick bank of grey clouds above my head. Five meters…

Once I get to the bramble thicket, pulling Sheb becomes harder; I crouch down, moving backwards an inch at a time as I haul my brother after me. Thorns snag at my hair and clothes and leave deep scratches along my face and scalp but I ignore their sting as I pull him deeper into the bushes. When my back comes up against the stone wall, I know that we can go no further and I crawl over Sheb to rescue the packs and sleeping bags. Fighting my way out of the thicket is harder than entering it; the brambles catch at my hair and I whimper and squirm, tearing out great chunks of it.

Finally, I pull myself free, wincing as the final thorn yanks out another piece of my hair and scalp. I run over to the packs and stuff them haphazardly into the thicket along with Sheb's weapons. I turn to survey the scene and almost groan in frustration; I've left long muddy skid marks in the soft ground. I scramble to cover them up, erasing all traces of our presence. I stand up; it's the best I can do and I really want to get undercover.

'Maya…! No…!' I turn, half hoping that Sheb has regained consciousness but my hope vanishes as his cries turn into shrill screams. A wave of despair swamps me; it's so strong that it knocks me to my knees; why did I even bother to move him? If he continues to shout out in this way then we're as good as dead anyway. I bury my face in my hands and sob, suddenly too exhausted to think through this new challenge.

And then I hear the sound that I've been dreading; the screams and shouts that herald the return of the Careers.

I jump up; I will not go down without a fight. Despite my tears and the hopelessness of the situation, I can't give up now. I reach to my side to unsheathe one of the throwing knives, balancing it in my hand, trying to think of a plan; if I can take the Careers by surprise then maybe I can take one of them out before I'm killed.

_Fat chance of that Maya…_ the thought prickles but I ignore it.

Something caresses the top of my head and I jump back, half thinking that it's another one of those flying ants. It isn't; a silky parachute falls to the ground in front of me and I reach down to grab it with my free hand, tearing the silk in my haste to see what it contains. There's a tiny bottle… medicine for Sheb?

I turn and dive into the thicket, just as the Careers arrive back into camp. I crawl over to my brother, hoping desperately that I am not shaking the bush above me. Sheb moans loudly and I freeze and look back over my shoulder; I can barely see the Careers through the tangle of briars so I have to go by hearing; it sounds as though one of them has also been stung by the ants. From the pitch of the screams it's definitely a girl but I can't tell if it's Ruby or the girl from Two or Four. I unscrew the bottle with shaking hands before taking a cautious sniff. The sickly over-sweet smell of sleep syrup rises up to meet me and I silently thank Seeder and Chaff for their quick thinking. I prise Sheb's mouth open and pour the entire bottle into it. He swallows reflexively but I make sure that it's all gone in by dribbling a few drops of water down after it.

Within seconds, Sheb's body relaxes and his breathing eases and I breathe a sigh of relief and turn back to the Career's conversation.

'Oak, get a fire going while I look through the medical kits.' That's Ruby's slightly nasal voice which must mean that it's either the black haired beauty from Two or the golden haired princess from Four that was stung. Then I remember that both the tributes from Four have already been killed. _Oak… _that's not a Career name and my mind immediately flies back to the tribute interviews and scores; I'm almost certain that the boy from District Seven scored highly and the name 'Oak' also suggests that he's from the lumber District.

I suddenly find myself sagging with exhaustion; I've been running on empty for the past few hours and I desperately need something to drink and possibly some food. I also need to wrap myself up; now that I've stopped moving, I'm shivering with the cold, the sweat and rain that has dampened my clothes in the past few hours now serves only to sap what little body heat I have left. Slowly, I crawl over to the packs and carefully unroll one of the sleeping bags. There's no way that I can get Sheb into it so I settle for wrapping it around him instead. Once he's completely covered, I slide into my own before reaching into my pack for the water skin and one of the katniss roots that we baked last night.

Now that the adrenaline has left me, I feel the pain throughout my body; my hand aches but the movement is nearly back to normal so it's not too bad. My back also aches from where I fell against the tree during our escape and my leg and arm muscles are stiff from all the running and pulling. I'm still on edge though; we are not out of danger yet and the Careers could find us at any minute. I unsheathe two of my throwing knives and lay them on the ground in front of me, in easy reach if we are suddenly discovered; it is not in my nature to go down without a fight.

The Careers don't seem to have found any medicine for the injured tribute in their huge bounty. They settle for giving her an entire packet of antihistamines that they find in one of their first aid kits. I'm hoping for drug overdose but I know that it's unlikely; if the pills are anything like the ones in my own first aid kit then they are barely active enough for infected mosquito bites let alone super genetically engineered ant stings and they wouldn't even knock out a baby. In the end, her fellow Careers put her in one of the tents and leave her to scream and thrash while they go about making a meal. It seems rather unsympathetic but then again, Careers never seem to display a normal range of human emotion. Even so, when a particularly loud shriek rents the air, Ruby tilts her head back, demanding a parachute from her mentors. Nothing is forthcoming and she stamps off in a huff, leaving her District partner and Oak to prepare the food while the Viktor, the boy from Two hovers anxiously in the doorway of the tent that contains his injured friend, looking strangely vulnerable for his size.

Career tributes always have good sponsors and the fact that their mentors haven't sent them anything is a sure sign that there is nothing that can be used against the ants' venom. At first this thought is slightly alarming but then I remember that two deaths by ant would be considered a complete waste in the Capitol. I'm hopeful that the venom simply incapacitates you for a few hours, like tracker jacker stings. I cling on to this thought because it's the only option that I am willing to consider at this point.

Wholesome smells start to drift over to where we are hidden and I crane forwards to see what the Careers are cooking; it's some sort of tinned stew but it probably tastes almost as good as the stuff that they served us in the Capitol and I find myself drooling as they dish it up into plastic bowls. I inspect their pile of supplies from afar, wondering what other goodies it contains; it's probably ambushed otherwise the Careers would never have left it unguarded but it might be worth taking a closer look when they all leave again. This thought sobers me up slightly; if they don't all leave again then it's unlikely that Sheb and I will be able to escape, if and when Sheb wakes up. The leaves and ground around me may be sodden with water but our water skin and bottle are already half empty the only edible food we have left are two baked katniss roots, a couple of handfuls of oats and a small bag of dried fruit. True, we still have the bag of grain and another of pasta but both these things require hot water to reconstitute.

Afternoon slowly turns to evening and dusk falls over the valley. District Two's incessant moaning and screaming seems to be getting on everyone's nerves and more than once Ruby screams in frustration; that girl really needs to find a better outlet for her temper because at some point even her fellow Careers are going to get sick of her. With the darkness comes more rain, and I snap the night vision glasses over my eyes and pull one of the tarpaulins up over my head to protect myself from the big droplets that make it through the brambles above me. The anthem blares out and I peer up through the brambles but there are no faces in the sky tonight; it doesn't matter though because the audience will be appeased for the time being by our predicament.

Ruby ducks into one of the tents and Oak and the boy from District One disappear into another, leaving Viktor sitting under the porch of the third tent, keeping watch. His face is obscured by a shadow but I'm almost certain that he is also wearing a pair of night vision glasses. My heart sinks slightly when he stands to refuel the fire and I get a good look at his face; I was right so there's no hope of dodging the Careers in the darkness.

I shiver and pull my hood up, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible. It's going to be a long night.

* * *

As always reviews and comments are greatly appreciated and very inspiring.


	13. Too close for comfort

**Too close for comfort**

It's the cold that wakes me, and I am immediately alert and instantly horrified that I let myself sleep. I peer out through the brambles; in the dawn half-light I can see that Viktor has been replaced by the boy from One but I'm too cold and tired to bother trying to remember his name. I turn to my brother; even with the night vision glasses it's hard to see much of him because of the sleeping bag that I wrapped around him but I can hear the soft sigh of his breathing and it comforts me although he still in an unreachable dream world of slumber. It's stupid but I feel so alone despite his closeness. I know that if the Careers become aware of us then it will be over in seconds. I shudder and revise the thought; it won't be over in seconds because traditionally the Careers like to draw out the death scenes to satisfy the audience in the Capitol. If we are discovered then we will both face a slow and probably excruciating death. Just the thought alone sets every nerve ending in my body tingling; the idea of pain is almost as bad as experiencing it.

It must be about five o'clock in the morning, judging by what little sky I can see through the tangle above my head, and that means that I can't have been asleep for much over an hour. The rain has finally stopped and the temperature has dropped accordingly so that even with my extra jumper and the sleeping bag, I am shivering with the cold. I would love to get up and move around in an attempt to warm up but of course that's impossible. I wait for a few minutes, gradually become aware of the pressure in my bladder. When it's impossible to ignore it any longer, I slide reluctantly out of my sleeping bag. It's impossible to move more than a few feet to one side and I feel disgusting because I'm basically fouling our living area. There's no other option though and I can only hope that the rain will wash it away when it inevitably starts again.

For the first time since I opened my eyes, I become aware of the near-silence around me; the wind has dropped and the trees and bushes are almost still, barely rustling at all. The birds are just starting to wake up, their pre-dawn chorus, strangely sweet and peaceful considering we're in the arena. But the one thing that I immediately notice is the lack of screaming and moaning from the tent containing the girl from Two. _Quartz_; from the amount of times that Ruby yelled at her last night, I doubt that I'll ever forget her name again. Does this mean that the effects of the venom have worn off? I squint hopefully at Sheb; it's impossible to tell whether or not he is improving because he is still deep in the effects of the sleep syrup. I slide carefully back into my sleeping bag and press myself closer to him for warmth. He feels so far away...

Three or four hours later, Ruby, Oak and Viktor emerge from their respective tents. Viktor stokes up the fire and a starts cooking instant porridge and hot chocolate and Ruby heads into Quartz' tent to check on her. She comes out again almost immediately and announces loudly that Quartz is still unconscious but the swelling on her arm has almost disappeared. I don't know what it is about that girl but she seems to be unable to speak at a normal volume; everything is either shrieked, yelled or shouted. It's as if she's constantly performing for a camera, which, in a way, I suppose she is. I snort quietly to myself and look over at my brother's blurry outline and realise at once that the night vision glasses are now splintering my eyesight. I pull them off and shove them into the side pocket of my rucksack. Then, hardly daring to hope, I pull the layers of sleeping bag and clothes away from Sheb's neck. Ruby's right; the swelling has almost gone. Even so, I run my fingers swiftly up and down his neck just to make sure. My fingers detect the smallest of bumps but nothing more than you'd get from the average mosquito bite and I exhale deeply in my relief; it feels as though a weight has been lifted from my heart: He's going to be okay... He _has_ to be okay...

Sheb suddenly squirms under my touch and I lift my hands automatically, my heart speeding up. But although he has moved, he is still deeply unconscious and he simply rolls over onto his side, groaning quietly in his sleep.

Rich smells start to drift over towards the bramble thicket and my stomach contracts; I am starving but I am loathed to eat the two remaining katniss roots because they are all we have left and I know that Sheb will need them when he wakes up. Instead, I chew a handful of oats and follow it up with a couple of dried apricots. It does little to quell the rolling of my stomach. It's been too cold to remove all of my clothes at once but I imagine that if I did then I'd easily be able to count my ribs; I must've gained a few pounds during my stay in the Capitol but I think that I've probably already lost most of it and I'm probably back to my usual unhealthily-skinny body. I run my fingers experimentally over my protruding hip bone and sigh, glancing longingly at the huge pile of stores just beyond the Careers' tents; I bet that there's enough sustenance there to keep both me and Sheb going for several years...

My heart skips and my breath hitches in my throat; the boy from One has stood up and he is walking towards our bramble thicket. I freeze as he approaches, hardly daring to breathe, desperately hoping that Sheb doesn't move again or make any more noises. The boy from One, _Blaze_; somehow in the heat of the moment my terrified brain has remembered his name, stops right in front of the bramble thicket, less than two meters away from me. He unzips his trousers and starts to urinate into the bushes. Despite having a clear view, I don't turn away; I am still frozen with fear, convinced that the slightest movement will be noticed. It seems to take forever but he finally finishes and turns away and I am able to let out the breath that I didn't even realise I was holding in.

Morning turns slowly to afternoon and my head starts to pound; both of our water containers are now empty and I can feel myself slowly drying out, despite the damp around me. The only ray of hope comes unexpectedly from Quartz; early evening, she wakes up. She wanders shakily around the Careers' encampment whilst her fellow Careers prepare a celebratory meal. Even princess Ruby contributes without more than two or three complaints which is a sure sign that it's a special occasion.

They go backwards and forwards from their pile of supplies so often that I begin to notice a pattern; they always approach the stores from behind which makes me suspect… yes! I can just make out a rope in the branches of the apple tree above the pile of goodies, and… I squint at the ground around it kicking myself mentally for not noticing it before; the ground is strewn with dry, brown beech leaves but there are no beech trees in this area. They must be hiding a net of some sort that triggers when you step on it and that hitches you up into the air.

The shadows lengthen and the afternoon turns slowly into evening and the weather deteriorates into another rain storm. After a heated argument where they established that none of them are willing to stay outside in the lashing wind and rain to guard the camp, the Careers all migrate into their tents. Even under the bushes, wrapped in my sleeping bag and one of the tarpaulins I am not wholly protected; the thrashing wind is shaking free any water that gets caught in the briars around us and the ground is already pretty saturated. I open my mouth and tilt my head up, hoping that some of the droplets will land on my tongue. It works to some extent but my neck gets stiff long before my thirst is quenched

'Maya?' The whisper is so quiet that I half think that I imagined it but when I turn I am overjoyed to see Sheb blinking at me. Heedless of any noise, I throw myself on him, wrapping my arms around him and sobbing silently into his chest. It is some time before I can stop crying for long enough to explain to him where we are and what has happened.

'... and the Careers are just out there.' I conclude desperately, despite having already made this clear many times during my frantic explanation.

'We'll just have to wait until they go and then make our escape.' Sheb whispers, his brow furrowed.

'But…' I catch the words before they come out; ever the pessimist I was about to point out that they might never leave this camp. Instead, I take the larger of the two water bottles and unscrew the lid, standing it upright in the ground, hoping that some water drips into it.

'Maya, you saved my life,' Sheb whispers, enfolding me in another hug that causes me to disintegrate into a teary wreck for a second time. Crushed against his chest, I think back to my brief moment of doubt when I considered leaving him and rescuing myself but the thought passes almost as soon as it comes to me.

'What are we going to do, Sheb?' It feels comforting to be able to ask his; it's good to no longer be in charge and to have the opportunity to discuss with him what we should do.

'Well for a start, you should get some rest. I can't imagine that the Careers will stay in camp all day tomorrow and when they leave, we can escape too… give me the night vision glasses and curl up. It's my turn to look after you now.'

'You sure?' As if he has a choice; I'm on the brink of passing out.

'Maya and you look dead on your feet.'

'There's one other thing, you probably can't see it from here because of the rain but the Careers have this enormous pile of stores…' Outside the bramble thicket, the weather has reached gale force and the rain is so thick that even with the night vision glasses it's impossible to make out the Careers' tents let alone their pile of goodies.

'I think that it's booby trapped on this side with a net or something. But before we go, we ought to explore it…'

We could take what we can carry and maybe destroy the rest of it although I'm not sure how we'd manage that. Maybe we could dump some of it in the river or even soak it with some of their fuel to make it inedible; I saw earlier that they had at least two huge canisters of the same stuff that Sheb has in his rucksack. I'm too tired to think about it now though and it's good to finally let my eyes close, knowing that Sheb is okay and is watching over me.

Despite my extreme exhaustion, I find it hard to fall asleep; every time I slide into unconsciousness, I jerk back into wakefulness convinced that I've fallen asleep on watch. It isn't until the wind and rain peter out just before dawn that I finally fall into a sleep so deep that Sheb finds it very hard to wake me at around midday.

'Maya! Come on wake up!' Sheb's urgency pierces the fog in my brain and I prise my eyelids apart. 'We're getting out of here.'

'You sure they've gone?' I croak, my voice hoarse and my mind still woozy from sleep.

'They saw a fire up on the hillside behind us and they've gone off to hunt whoever lit it. Come on!'

We scramble out of the bramble thicket and I immediately squint up to the thin stream of smoke on the hillside above us; whoever it is seems to have made no attempt at hiding it which makes me suspect that it's either some sort of trap or someone very stupid… It's at least two or three miles away and a good way up the hillside so I know that the Careers will be away for some time. Even so, I am torn between wanting to get the hell out of here as soon as possible and wanting to explore the Careers' food stock. Sheb, however, has already made his way carefully around the back of the stores. He reaches into one of the many bags and lets out a low cry of pleasure at the contents.

My eyes turn towards the hillside again; the lack of wind and rain is almost foreboding. It's as if the arena is taking a deep breath in before the next big plunge. I shudder; whoever lit that fire might just have saved our lives, for the time being at any rate. It's odd though…

'Come on Sissy, hurry up!' I turn back to my brother and step round behind the store pile, temporarily distracted from my musings; there's so much stuff here… it's no wonder that the Careers' almost always win; they've got it so easy compared to the rest of us, living in comparative luxury and picking us off one by one...

Three minutes later, we are both carrying as many tins and packets as we can physically fit into our bags. We have enough food to last us for over a week if we're careful and this sets my mind at rest; I've been running on empty and I desperately need to refuel.

Without consulting one another we then set to destroying as much of the rest of the pile as we can; we take both of the fuel canisters drizzle their contents over the pile, making sure that we cover as much of them as possible. Sheb then looks at me before picking up a box of matches.

'Maya, go now and get into the tree line over there.' He points across the river and into the trees on the other side. Unexplored territory; we've never been up that hillside before and it could contain any manner of unpleasant things… I shudder as I think of the ants and the tree carnage that the other valley threw at us.

'Once you're hidden I'll set fire to this lot and come and meet you.'

'Hang on a minute…' I cross quickly over to the water butt where the Careers have been storing their drinking water; it seems almost stupid to use it seeing as we are a bare fifty meters from the river but I fill up my water bottle and drain it in one long pull before refilling it and tucking it under the lid of my pack. I then throw my arms around my brother.

It feels horrible leaving him there alone but I can see the sense in his plan; I can't run as swiftly as he can so it makes sense for me to be well hidden before the Careers start sprinting back towards us. I run across to the river and slide down the slippery shingle beach and into the icy water. The river is fast moving because of the amount of rain but it's also relatively shallow, presumably another reason why the Careers chose to camp here. I wade across it, up to my thighs and shivering violently, before scrambling up the opposite bank and running up the steep overgrown field on the other side. Once I reach the edge of the tree line, I turn and wave at Sheb before ducking behind a huge oak tree.

Flames suddenly leap up in front of Sheb, black smoke rising in a thick, straight line above the Careers' base camp. The lack of wind makes it all the more obvious and it's as good a way of getting caught as I can think of. I scan the opposite side of the valley in desperation, hoping that the Careers aren't too close and that my brother will have time to make it over to me before they break the tree line.

A cannon shot suddenly rings out across the silent valley, echoing off the cliffs above before rebounding into silence. Startled birds fly up out of the trees and I jump violently and am on my feet instantly, ready to break cover and run to my brother's aid. My stomach drops when I realise that I can't see him and I suffer an agonisingly long half a second until he appears out of a dell in the overgrown field; he's running hard and has already crossed the river and is pounding up the slope towards me.

As Sheb joins me, a second cannon rings out over the valley and we both turn to look back over our shoulders; there's no sign of anyone yet and apart from the two plumes of smoke there's no sign of any other living thing. I can't imagine that this peace will last for much longer...

'I wonder who it was…' Sheb voices the question in my mind too; did someone lay a trap for the Careers? Have they succeeded in killing two of them? Or maybe the Career's have killed two other tributes? I guess that we'll find out tonight. I suffer the familiar twist of my stomach when I realise how immoral I've become but it doesn't last long; it's weird, but the arena changes you and I've stopped associating those cannon shots with the people that I spent four days training with in the basement of the tribute centre. Instead, I now think of each cannon as being one step closer to home and… I shudder as it dawns on me again. I've been ignoring it; pushing it down behind other thoughts and discomforts, desperately fighting to keep us both alive. But both of us can't win this thing. Both of us can't go home...

* * *

Hope you enjoy.


	14. Stones of ice

**Stones of ice**

We alternate between running and walking all afternoon and into early evening and by the time the sun has started to set, we have crested the ridge and are now in another valley. The descent is steep and the ground is rocky and slippery and it takes us nearly an hour to reach the bottom of the valley because of the thick pine forest that we are fighting our way through. Sheb's descent is far more graceful than mine because I am sliding down, using my bottom as much as my feet and grasping hold of every tree within reach. We reach a narrow stream that runs down the bottom of this new valley in a series of steep little waterfalls. The stream runs almost haphazardly, somehow finding its way between the huge stones of a large boulder field.

We head down the valley, jumping from boulder to boulder, looking for a good place to camp down for the night. I am slightly nervous of the weather; the rain has not yet returned and there isn't enough wind to stir a candle flame, which is probably why the temperature is dropping so fast. I'm convinced that something big is coming and I want to be undercover before it hits. It doesn't help that I can't see very much of the sky; the few glimpses that I do get from under the cover of the trees that surround us show a foreboding bank of thick purple-black storm clouds.

It feels almost claustrophobic; we are hemmed in on both sides by thick, steeply sloping, pine forests. I don't like it at all; the valley is making me feel trapped and the dark woods on either side are shadowy and foreboding. I wonder how many secrets they are harbouring including muttations and other tributes…

I stop to pull on my extra jumper because I'm not moving fast enough to keep myself warm. I pull on my rucksack again and turn to hurry after my brother but I lose my footing and tumble down a crevice between two big boulders, scraping my shin as I fall. I find myself in a small enclosed space. I push myself up onto hands and knees; the floor seems dry enough and I think that the space widens out a bit around me. Even so, it's almost completely dark in here and I don't want to start exploring it until we get some sort of light. Although I know that I'm probably being silly, the ants have made me nervous and I am imagining snakes and scorpions and all manner of other poisonous creatures. I look up towards the last rays of sunlight that are coming in through the entrance.

'Sheb!' My voice sounds hollow and empty.

'Maya, where are you?' There's clear panic in my brother's voice. I hear his footsteps approaching and then see his face peering down through the narrow entrance; it's going to be tight squeeze for him if we do decide to camp out here.

'I fell down. I can't see much but it feels quite dry.'

'Here…' Sheb hands me down something small and cylindrical. It takes me a couple of seconds to realise that it's an electric torch; he must've picked it up out of the Careers supply pile before he set fire to it because we didn't have it in either of the packs.

I snap the switch over and I am immediately surprised by the brightness of the light that shines out from the flat bulb; although we have electricity in District Eleven, torches are few and far between and on the nights when the electricity in our living shacks is turned off, we go to bed by candle light.

I flash the light round the cave, bouncing it off the rough walls and I'm very pleased to discover that my fears about snakes and other things were completely unfounded. The cave isn't so very big after all; where I landed, the roof is high enough for me to stand up, although Sheb will have trouble and there's enough room for us both to lie lengthwise across the floor. Behind me, the rock slopes down to the ground. There's more than enough room for the two of us and both of our packs and weapons and things.

'It's good, come on down.' There's no answer from my brother. I dump my pack on the floor and using my hands and arms, I scramble up out of the crevice. I am immediately surprised by how quickly the dusk seems to be falling; the approaching storm seems to be sucking the remaining light out of the sky.

Sheb is staring up through the branches above us.

'Maya, there's something big coming.' He says finally, tearing his eyes reluctantly away from the threatening clouds above us.

'The cave's perfect, Sheb; we won't find anywhere better tonight if at all.' I pick up his pack and heave it down through the entrance.

'I'm going to get some firewood; your hands are turning blue Maya.'

'What about the smoke?' I ask doubtfully; although I am freezing, I'd rather suffer the cold than have another close encounter with the Careers. They're already out for our blood since we destroyed their supplies. Well, they don't know that it was us but they're bound to be ready to take out their anger on anyone who gets too close… I shudder as I think back to Ruby's promise to Sheb back in the training centre. It seems much more threatening now that we're in the arena.

'We should be okay down there, especially with that.' He points up through the leaves at the heavy cloud bank. 'Get the bigger of the tarpaulins spread out and the sleeping bags and things but leave the smaller one and I'll try and rig something over the entrance.'

'We'll have to leave a hole for the smoke to escape if we're going to have a fire.'

I slide back into the crevice and start unpacking our sleeping bags and the tarpaulins. I stuff both the sleeping bags into their waterproof covers, thinking that the more protection we have the better. I lay mine nearer the back of the cave; seeing as I'm smaller I'll be able to tuck in under the sloping roof.

I shiver as I work; Sheb's right. Although we're sheltered down here, the stone around me seems to be leaching what little body heat I have remaining and that's only going to get worse as the weather outside deteriorates. I shudder again and pull two tins out of my pack, flashing the torch on them to read the labels. The first is lamb stew and the second is beef hot pot.

A bundle of sticks suddenly lands on the cave floor beside me, sticks flying in all directions. I have just got them into a neat pile under one edge of the overhang when another bundle lands behind me and Sheb slides down beside me, looking around with appreciation.

'Wow, good discovery Maya.'

'Believe me, it was unintentional,' I say dryly, reaching into my pocket from some of the dry pine needles to use for kindling. I then use some of the smaller sticks to build a wigwam shape over the top of them.

As I work, Sheb uses the rope and the smaller of the two tarpaulins to rig up a makeshift cover over the entrance to the cave. He leaves a small hole at one corner for the smoke to escape from. I wait until he's finished before I light the fire, sure that he'll put a foot in it or something; I can do without having to treat burns on top of everything else.

For the first few minutes, the smoke from the fire pours in all directions and my eyes sting and smart but after a while it burns clearer and starts to find its way out through the hole above. Even so, it's warm and fuggy down here and I shudder luxuriously as I start to thaw out. It's the first time that I've been warm since I entered the arena. I sniff appreciatively as the scent of pine resin fills our little hole.

The anthem of Panem suddenly reverberates around us and Sheb pulls a corner of the tarpaulin aside. Through the branches above, I see a picture of Quartz, the girl from Two. She stares haughtily down at me for a couple of seconds before her picture is replaced by the boy from Ten. I scrabble around in my mind for a few seconds, unable to remember his name. The anthem finishes, leaving an echoing silence in its place.

'Terra,' Sheb breathes, as if he's read my mind.

'I wonder what happened,' I murmur, reaching behind me for the tins. 'Do you think that he tried to set up a trap for the Careers?'

He didn't seem the type to be stupid enough to light a fire so close to their base camp without good reason: Now that Sheb has reminded me of his name, I find myself remembering more and more about him; he scored relatively highly after the individual assessments and he came across as quiet and thoughtful during his interview. Maybe he was part of another alliance? Or maybe it was simply and individual plan that went wrong… He took one of the Careers with him though which I suppose is a good thing, although I'm still wondering how it came about… I could run over this incessantly and still never get an answer.

'I don't know,' Sheb bites his lip and replaces the tarpaulin. He then turns to his pack and starts rummaging around in it. I can tell from his posture that he feels uncomfortable and also that he doesn't want to talk about it any further so I swallow the stream of 'what ifs' that have come to me and turn back to the fire. Ten tributes left… over half of us dead.

Each of the tins has a metal ring for opening it, which is a good thing because neither of us thought to find a tin opener before we destroyed the Careers supplies. I pour the contents of both into the metal pot; of course, they're perfectly edible without heating them up but I think some hot food would probably do us both some good seeing as it's been a while since either of us ate.

'Look at this.' There's a smile in his voice and he hands me a plastic pot with a foil lid. I squint at the label. finding it hard to read by the flickering firelight.

_Shake and drink._

My eyes scan down the instructions and I snort and hand it back to my brother; it's a type of instant hot chocolate that doesn't even need added water. It's so typical of the Capitol to invent something so luxurious even though I can't imagine a situation when any of its citizens would be in need of a hot drink and not have the means to make one using the traditional heating methods. Instead they invent something that turns powder into a hot drink… what a waste of resources…

Steam starts to rise the cooking pot and good smells start to fill the little cave and I suddenly find myself drooling; I have barely eaten for the last three days and it's only now with the scent of the food that I realise how hungry I actually am.

'I think it's hot enough.' I dip my little finger into the pot to double check.

'Here,' Sheb hands me a metal spoon, something else that he must've picked up at the Careers camp and we both dig in.

The two combined stews are incredible although I'm so hungry that I think anything would taste good at this point. We share the instant hot chocolate for dessert before settling down in our sleeping bags, waiting for the storm to hit.

We don't have to wait for very long.

The wind screams across the arena in a sudden howl that seems to go on and on, first coming from one direction and then another and another… trees moan in protest as they are flung this way and that and the tarpaulin over the entrance to the cave flaps manically. A series of large, splintering thumps hit the rock above us and I wonder what on earth the arena can be throwing at us now until something huge falls through the hole in the tarpaulin and lands near the fire. I reach for it and my hand closes around a huge lump of ice. It's as big as my fist. If that thing fell on my head then it would certainly knock me unconscious.

'Let's see,' Sheb yells, somehow making himself heard through the cacophony of noise.

I hand him the lump of ice, searching around in my mind for a name for the thing. It takes me a while to find it; _hail_. We've never seen anything like it before although I once read about it in a book about weather phenomena at school. I shudder; lumps of ice falling from the sky; could this arena get any worse? I pull my sleeping bag tightly around my neck and curl up in a tight ball. The fire is still going strong and I'm still perfectly warm and comfortable so this gesture is one of comfort rather than necessity.

* * *

By morning the storm has blown itself out and we emerge into a freezing world of splintered ice and rainbows; the beams of thin sunlight that penetrate through the foliage above bounce back and forth, making the world look as if it's been painted with some of the glitter the stylists used on District One's costumes during the tribute parade. I catch my breath and gaze around in awe, drinking in the beauty. My mind is sluggish with the cold and my hands and feet feel like blocks of ice, thick and useless, in their gloves and shoes.

'I'm going to get some more wood.' I nod at my brother's comment; our fire has burned itself out during the night and we both woke up freezing about an hour or two ago and lay huddled in our sleeping bags, reluctant to venture out into the glacial world above to fetch more wood to rekindle our fire.

I make my way carefully towards the nearest patch of trees; the boulders here are lethal and one careless slip could give me a broken ankle or worse. Here, the ground slopes steeply upwards and the thick pine trees mean that less hail stones have made their way down to the ground. The soft bed of pine needles under the trees has cushioned their fall though so instead of splintering on impact they lie whole and un-melting on the ground. I wonder how many are lodged in the branches above my head and look up involuntarily, scared that they'll fall as I push my way through the undergrowth.

When I reach the slope, the ground gets harder but I push my way carefully through the spikey needle-filled pine branches. I go far enough in for the ground to be covered in a thick bed of needles and dried branches before I start collecting the firewood.

A shout suddenly splinters through the frozen air and I whip round, dropping my armful of sticks.

'Maya, RUN!'

I ignore my brother's command and turn towards him instead, pushing my way frantically through the think pine branches, showering myself with dead pine needles. Lumps of ice hit the ground around me but I ignore them, charging towards the continued shouts that echo through the valley. I can hear Sheb's voice and at least two others and my stomach contracts as I realise what this must mean; the Careers have finally caught up with us.

I lose my footing as I come out onto the boulder field but I'm up again in an instant. I scramble over the rocks, heedless now of the slippery rocks. Sheb is down on his back in a crevice and astride him is… I have to blink and look again. She looks like a savage; clothing ripped to tatters, mud streaked face, long straggly hair, filthy fingers wrapped around Sheb's neck. It takes me a good couple of seconds to recognise the girl from the textile District; Lacey. The name seems so delicate and inappropriate when I consider the savage in front of me.

But she was part of a team… I swing round as the Boy from Eight charges at me. I duck instinctively under his outstretched arm, my legs sliding out from under me as I lose my footing again. I find my feet but I'm forced to duck as he comes at me once more.. His hand is clenched round a stone the size of a grapefruit.

Weapons… my hands scrabble at my knife belt, my frozen hands slow to respond to my request. I can't let him see that I'm armed and it's no good thinking that I can throw a knife accurately when I can't feel my fingers. The stone comes whizzing past my head. I feel a blast of air on my exposed ear and fling myself sideways just in time. The boy throws himself at me, knocking my legs out from under me.

I fall backwards, hitting my head on the rock behind me and he falls on top of me. His momentum drives the blade of my knife between his ribs. He sags down onto me, his weight crushing my back into the cold stone… he twitches… and falls still. A cannon shot rings out over the valley.

* * *

Hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think.

**THE FALLEN**

Girl from Two (Quartz)

Boy from Eight (Calico)

Boy from Ten (Terra)


	15. A little bit of home

**A little bit of home**

I gag involuntarily and the sour, bitter taste of bile fills my mouth. Horror stricken, I push his limp body off mine and scramble to my feet, whimpering in fright and shock. A second cannon shot rings out across the silent valley and I cry out in fear for my brother, looking around wildly. I can no longer see him or Lacey and the valley is now silent apart from the morning birdsong and the rush and tumble of the stream.

'Sheb? Sheb?' Tears of panic and fear fill my eyes.

'Maya!' I swing round and a wave of pure relief makes me fold at the knees and I find myself kneeling on the icy rock beneath me. A jagged piece digs into my kneecap but I am oblivious to the pain.

'Maya, are you hurt?' He's on his knees beside me but I as I open my mouth to reassure him I suddenly find myself choking. Strangled, gutteral noises grind their way out through my throat. I don't know whether it's laughter or crying but I am powerless to do anything to stop it.

'Maya… Maya, don't make such a noise.' Slowly the hysterics diminish until I find myself heaving with dry, tearless sobs. My hands shake uncontrollably. Sheb's arms go round me.

I don't know how long he holds me for but it feels like a long time after when I am finally able to get my breathing under control. I glance down at my hands and, apart from the slightest of tremors, they seem to be behaving almost normally.

'Maya, I thought…'

There are tears on Sheb's face and for the second time, I suddenly feel a slight stinging behind my own eyes. I look back towards the boy's body but the only thing I can make out is one of his feet. Either the boot has come off or he was barefoot when he attacked me and I didn't notice. The bare sole of his foot still glows pink with the cold even though blood is no longer being pumped around his body. I shudder and turn away.

'I… I killed him! I killed him! I killed him!' I exclaim, not realising in my distress that I have repeated the same thing three times until the words are out of my mouth. The tears are flowing freely by now, but the sub-zero conditions mean that they freeze almost before they leave my eyes and stick to my lashes so that they have to be brushed painfully away.

It's only now that I can fully relate to how Sheb felt when he killed the girl from Six during the bloodbath. I have killed someone. I am responsible for taking away a person's life. _Calico_… I suddenly find that I have a name for the face… for the boy… he was only a few years older than myself and now he's gone… and I am responsible for his death.

'He would've killed you Maya,' Sheb's voice is bleak. I pull back and stare at him through the veil of frozen tears that still cling to my lashes. His face is twisted, as if he is trying not to cry and I suddenly realise that I am not the only one to have taken a life today.

'What happened?' I demand.

'They came out of nowhere. I think they were as surprised as I was really. They both came at me but he slipped and went down one of those crevices and it took him a while to pull himself out. She threw a stone at me and I didn't duck in time…'

He gestures to a lump the size of a hen's egg on his forehead. Looking at him closely I can also see a long cut on his left cheek and the deep purplish shadow of a bruise beneath both eyes. A small trickle of blood out of his nose confirms my diagnosis; his nose is broken and he'll have two black eyes by this evening.

'…I didn't have a chance to pick myself up before she was knocked me down again and fell on top of me. She somehow managed to get both hands about my neck and I was trying to push her off me…' He hesitates, wrinkling his nose up in self-disgust and then wincing a little at the pain.

'…it was so stupid; I'd put my weapons down to pick up the wood... just wasn't expecting anyone to be about at this time… stupid.'

'But she's dead…?' I look around just to make sure but I see no sign of her body although I know that the hovercraft hasn't appeared overhead yet to pick it up. They must be waiting for us to move away from the scene of the kill.

'Yes… I…' Sheb swallows painfully and looks away and I don't press him for more details.

'Are you hurt anywhere else?' I demand, looking him up and down.

'No… nothing to matter. But your head…' His fingers prod gently at the back of my head and I wince, suddenly becoming aware of the pain. 'You're bleeding.'

Head wounds always bleed a lot.' I shrug, but in truth I know that I need to lie down; the world is starting spin and my hands are shaking again. I feel both hot and cold at the same time and my ears are ringing. My whole body feels heavy, as if I have a hundred tonne weights attached to all four limbs. Once when I was working high in the trees in the orchard, something stung my hand and I lost my grip on the branch and fell ten meters to the ground below, breaking my arm and banging my head. Afterwards I went into shock and I recognise the same feelings now. I swallow and tell myself firmly to get a grip.

'We should move away from the…' Saying 'the bodies' seems too impersonal but saying their names out loud is also not easy. Instead, I gesture behind me and Sheb seems to get what I can't say. He stands and pulls me to my feet although my legs are trembling horribly and I'm afraid that they're about to give up on me.

We walk slowly downstream. Sheb's arm is round my back, and he is supporting most of my weight which is probably good thing because I have no idea how far I'd make it if I was on my own. I avert my eyes as we pass Calico's body but, although Sheb looks away, I can't seem to stop myself from glancing at the girl tribute's body. She lies, her body wedged half in a narrow crevice between two huge boulders. Her matted hair lies over her face but it doesn't hide the fact that her neck is bent in a right angle to her body. Broken… I shudder and look away.

We neither see nor hear the hovercraft appear behind us but we are both suddenly aware of its presence and we swing round as one. From the cover of the trees, I can't see more than a silver sliver of the machine's underbelly but it's enough to see what's going on. A trap door slides almost elegantly across and a metal claw is lowered carefully through the treetops. The girl is first. _Lacey_. Her name somehow seems more appropriate now that the savage is gone. Slowly, gently, the metal slides under her body. Her arms and legs dangle limply like a rag doll's and her hair blows away in the breeze as she is lifted up into the waiting craft above. Sheb sighs beside me and I glance at him; his face is white and his eyes dry and blazing.

Calico is next. The time it takes for the claw to return and slide under his lifeless body is simultaneously both agonisingly long and painfully short. Finally he too disappears into the belly of the hovercraft and they are both whisked away from the arena for ever. I let out the breath I've been holding; somewhere his family and friends are in agony and a District is grieving for both of their tributes.

* * *

'Wake up Maya,' something prods at my arm and I roll over, with a loud mumble.

'Go' way...'

'Maya,' the voice repeats.

'What?' I roll over, squinting at him and shielding my eyes from the firelight. Sheb shrugs, seemingly completely unabashed to have woken me up.

'You told me to wake you at regular intervals and, anyway, dinner's ready.'

'Regular intervals?'

I squint up at the sky. From the little of it I can see through the crevice above us, it looks like twilight has fallen. I pull myself half out of the crevice to make sure. It's nearly completely dark under the trees and there's only a hint of light in the sky.

'Regular intervals?' I repeat, sliding back inside and into the warmth; the clear sky means that the temperature is dropping fast and I shiver and huddle closer to the fire. 'It's nearly night Sheb, I must've been asleep for hours.'

'I woke you up all the same; you just don't remember it.' Sheb shrugs again and turns back to the pot on the fire. As he lifts the lid, the rich scent of some sort of stew reaches my nose and my mouth fills with saliva.

'What is it?' Not that I really care; it smells so good, I think that I'd probably eat it even if he told me it was made of badger poo.

'Chicken and rice and some sort of vegetables,' Sheb mutters, ladling me out a bowlful before handing me something else. My fingers curl around it and tears fill my eyes as a powerful wave of homesickness hits me like a blow to the head; the familiar crescent shaped loaf, sprinkled with sweet seeds. It's a little bit of home. I try to swallow down my emotion but it's hard and it takes me a few deep breaths before I am confident that I won't burst into tears.

'Seeder and Chaff sent that at about oneish.'

It seems almost a shame to spoil it but it's meant to be eaten anyhow so I break the bread cleanly down the middle, before holding it close to my nose and inhaling it's familiar scent. I then hand half to Sheb before nibbling my own half. Somehow, although the chicken thing looks and smells incredible, I savour my own half of the bread on its own and enjoy it far more than the delectable tinned stuff from the Capitol.

The silence stretches uncomfortably throughout dinner and then through the melting of the now-frozen stream water to refill the water bottles and to do the washing up. As I watch the pot of water and ice, I try to calculate how many days we've been in this accursed arena and how many of us are left. It can't be much more than a week although it feels more like several years. I turn away as the anthem reverberates around us; I don't want to see the two faces up there tonight.

'We're down to the final eight, Maya,' Sheb says, as if in reply to my thoughts. I shudder and squint up through the crevice to ensure that the pictures are really over.

'Who else is there? Apart from us and the three, no, four Careers?' I ask, turning away from the darkness. I am not afraid of the dark… at least I wasn't until I entered this arena.

'Megan, no her name's Magnet, anyway, the girl from Three and Amber from Seven.' Once again I am impressed by Sheb's ability to remember names.

'They'll be interviewing Saff and Dad…' I cringe as I imagine my father's interview and then realise that my sister's probably won't be much better because, like me, she's never been particularly good at hiding her hatred of the Capitol. 'Do you think Saff's had the baby yet?' Sheb can't possibly know the answer to this so I'm not surprised when he shrugs.

'I don't know, it's only been a couple of weeks but I suppose that it might've come early. Babies in District Eleven often do. I wonder if it'll be a boy or a girl…' A look of sadness flashes suddenly across his face and I remember what he said at the tribute interviews about never knowing his niece or nephew. 'I'll… I'll get some more wood.' He stumbles to his feet, picks up the curved sword and pulls himself through the crevice. I'm about to follow him out when I spot the huge pile of firewood that he must've gathered while I was unconscious and realise that he needs to be on his own. I sink back onto the floor and stare into the fire...

The flames dance before my eyes and I suddenly find myself wreathed in memory...

* * *

_I wake to the sound of someone crying and I am instantly wide awake. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. I am half way to the door when I hear my sister's voice and I find myself standing still and listening instead of running to see what the matter is._

_'__It was a mistake! And it only happened once… we didn't mean to let it go so far!'_

_'__You need to stay calm Saffy; panicking won't help at all…' But even standing behind a closed door I can hear the fear in my mother's voice. _

_'__I don't want to bring a baby into this world!'_

_'__Saff…' But Saff ploughs on, heedless of my mother's attempts to calm her._

_'__I d-don't… want to raise a child t-to send them to the r-reapings and the Games.' The words are punctuated by heavy sobs._

_'__Saffron, I thought the same at one time but then I realised something important…' My sister makes a muffled questioning noise and I imagine that my mother is hugging her so tightly she is finding it hard to breathe. '…yes there was a chance that one of my children would be selected for the Games but is it really better to give in to fear? Never to love for fear that the person that we love will be taken from us? We can't let them win Saffy. We can't let them stop us from loving… if they did that then they would've already won…'_

* * *

A scream pierces the darkness and I am awake instantly. I struggle out of my sleeping bag and jump to my feet, nearly knocking myself out as the top of my head collides with the rough roof of the cave. I wince as the bump from earlier is aggravated. The fire has died down and the cave is pitch black aside from a few glowing embers in the fire-pit. Another whimper from above and adrenaline thrills though my veins and my heart jumps into my mouth. I stand, poised on the balls of my feet, ears straining for any further noises. My eyes scan the darkness above but they find nothing: The sky is clear and, for the first time since we entered the arena, I can see hundreds of stars twinkling above us like tiny glow worms. There are far more than we ever see at home and although they look natural, I know that they aren't and instead of seeing huge beings of burning gas millions of miles away we are only looking up at the lighted roof of the arena.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn to the thicker patch of darkness that I know must be my brother. I don't need his whispered caution.

I shiver as the screams begin again. Somewhere above us a girl is being tortured. I bend my knees and feel at my feet for the sleeping bag, my fingertips slipping across frozen earth before finally finding the slippery silky material of the sleeping bag. Once I am sure that I have it as firmly as my frozen fingers will allow, I spread it over the orange embers of the fire, smothering the life out of them. We have to remain hidden at all costs or we'll be the Career's next victims.

'I'm going to have a look?' Sheb breathes in my ear and I can hear a question in his voice. He starts to work himself up out of the crevice but I pull him back almost immediately as I hear the dry sliding noise of cloth against rock.

'No, let me… I'm smaller… quieter…' Although I would rather that we both remain hidden, I can see why my brother wants to find out what's going on and the quicker and quieter that we do it the better… There's a long pause, where I know that he is thinking over what I've said. In the end, common sense wins out; Sheb knows that he can't get out of the crevice without making a noise whereas with his help I might just be able to do it. He doesn't answer but I feel his hands on my waist.

Slowly he lifts me up through the crevice. I feel freezing rock against my back, even though my thick layers of clothing, and I shiver horribly. My grasping fingertips find purchase on something cold and slimy and it takes huge strength of will not to recoil. A blast of icy air hits me full on in the face and my eyes immediately begin to water. I blink rapidly and then, hardly daring to breath, I raise my head…

…and I gasp silently at the sight that meets my eyes. Not twenty feet away, a huge, featureless black shadow seems to absorb any starlight that makes its way down through the canopy above… it's a bottomless black hole in the darkness around me... a weakly struggling figure is pinned underneath it and it's impossible to make out where her body ends and the darkness of the creature begins.

I shiver involuntarily as the tribute lets out another agonising wail and for the first time I become aware of another noise, quieter than the girl's screams… a sort of meaty chomping noise as she is enveloped and devoured alive by the monster. Her wails turn to whimpers and then silence falls again as her life dwindles to nothing. I can't look away… my eyes are locked on the shadow as it backs away from the dead girl. Two fiery points of light, like red smouldering coals meet my own eyes and my breathing speeds up and a spike of pain lances through my heart. The shadow takes seems to sway towards me, the blackness thickening and the red eyes burning into my own with such a fiery intensity that I clamp mine shut. When I open them again I am alone in the dark wood and the first light of dawn is starting to seep across the sky above.

* * *

As always, please review.

**THE FALLEN**

Girl from Eight (Lacey)


	16. The end of everything

**The end of everything**

'We have to leave.' There's a finality and authority in my voice that takes me by surprise; we've been arguing for about an hour and I feel exhausted rather than decisive.

'But we're never going to find another place like this one,' Sheb counters. This has been his main argument and he's not wavering.

I shudder as I imagine staying in this place for another night; I want to get out of this valley and as far away from the… the _thing,_ as possible. I shiver again as I remember its thick, shadowy body and the gleaming coal-like eyes and, worst of all, the screams of the dying tribute. I still don't know who she was but my guess is either the girl from Seven or the girl from Three.

'Please Sheb.' I'm done with arguing and I sink exhausted onto the dry floor of the cave and bury my face in my hands, rubbing savagely at my eyes until they are sore and, undoubtedly, red.

'Fine… okay…' I can tell from the tone of his voice that he isn't pleased. I look up, catching a fleeting glimpse of his face as I blink my sore eyes.

'Sheb, you didn't see it…' My voice has taken on a plaintive tone; it's not that he doesn't believe me but because he didn't see the creature he doesn't understand the true horror of it. In his eyes, the thing looked at me and then left me alone and he thinks that this must mean that the Gamemakers are keen to leave us to our own devices for the time being. Maybe they are preparing something even more horrible for us or perhaps there are other tributes close by...? Even so, either option is grounds for moving in my opinion.

'I just… oh, it doesn't matter. I suppose that you're right. I'm just…' Sheb pauses and runs his fingers absent-mindedly across his chin. '…how much more can this arena throw at us?' He asks grumpily, obviously not expecting me to answer him.

'Maybe the Capitol didn't find the hurricane, or the ants, or the hail stones exciting enough?' I say grouchily, not even caring that we are almost definitely on air at the moment and that bad-mouthing the Capitol is not going to do us any favours. I shiver; although it's warmed up a bit, the temperature is still Arctic and the surrounding stone walls of our little cave seems to have leached out most of my body heat. I can't even imagine being warm again and this thought comes side by side with a small prickle of irritation because it feels as if I am forgetting the warmth of my home District. Can the arena really be wiping my mind of eleven years of muggy warmth. It feels like I am slowly losing my identity and my personality.

'You take the fuel this time, Maya. It's lighter than the food tins.' I snap back to earth with a bump as Sheb hands me the bottle of kerosene and I place it beside me on the floor while I empty the contents of my pack onto the earthy floor. I then shove it into the bottom of my pack before piling a couple of tins and all of my other things back on top of it. When I heave it onto my back, I honestly can't tell if there's any difference to the weight but I smile reassuringly at Sheb anyway as I buckle my knife belt around my waist.

'Okay, I think we're nearly there. Leave the empty tins; there's no point in carrying them around for nothing.'

I slip my arms out of the leather straps of my bag again and dump it on the floor before hoisting myself up out of the crevice. I look around warily before pulling myself out because I'm still convinced that something bad is on its way. Sheb hands me up his pack and then my own, before pulling himself awkwardly through the narrow space.

'Well… bye cave…' He waves his hand in a mock gesture of farewell. '…let's go down this valley a bit before we head up the side. It'll be awfully steep if we try to climb up here.' It feels altogether wrong to head downhill when we are trying to avoid the climb and I struggle to see the sense in my brother's words. Even so, I follow him without protest, content to finally be moving away from the scene of last night's massacre. I avert my eyes as we pass a sticky dark brown pool of half-dried blood caught in the shallow hollow on top of one of the boulders.

'Look up Maya,' Sheb is standing in a shaft of thin sunlight, his head tilted upwards. Through a gap in the canopy above I can see a thick bank of purple storm clouds in the shape of a huge cat. I look back at Sheb and smile. 'Do you think that the Gamemakers did it on purpose?' He rubs his chin unconsciously, diverting me from the question as I stare at his chin and neck and realise that his coffee coloured skin is as smooth as mine.

'Did you shave or something?' The question bursts out before I can stop it, despite the fact that I know that he hasn't. I lean against the side of a huge boulder that towers like a small cliff above my head and reach down to tie up my shoelace.

'No, of course not.' Sheb frowns, reaching up to run his finger across his stubble-free neck. 'August did something to me… back in the Capitol when we were being cleaned and styled for the tribute parade.' He snorts contemptuously. 'He gave me a tiny white tablet that contained something to stop facial hair or something… I d-…' His words end on a gasp and I stifle a scream as he chokes, coughing up a spray of blood that hits my face in a warm fountain… he falls to his knees...

'Run… Maya…' And then my brother keels over forwards, the spear through his heart breaking cleanly in two as he hits the ground. I stand, rooted to the spot, staring down at him. His body twitches once… twice… and then I hear his last breath leaving his lungs in a long, drawn out whoosh. A cannon fires.

How?

Why?

A loud, jeering laugh breaks through the fog in my brain and I spin round, instinct seemingly taking control, adrenaline thrilling through my veins as the four Careers approach. They surround me on three sides, trapping me against the side of the boulder. Fear thrills through me, chasing the other emotions and the confusion away to a dark hole, somewhere in the back of my mind, to be dealt with later. My panicked eyes scan the side of the boulder and find it overhanging and slimy with weed and water.

'You're trapped squirt.' Viktor tosses his second spear aside and withdraws a tiny knife from his belt. Ruby laughs manically and throws down her sword. She removes another, similar knife from an inner pocket of her coat.

'Big brother's dead!' The boy from One jeers. 'Going to cry little girl?'

'Maybe she'll cry for us if we start?' Ruby's voice is mocking. She turns to me, holding the small blade between us. 'Fingers or toes first?'

'Go to hell!' My own voice comes out harsh and high pitched but although I am shaking like a leaf, my voice is quite steady, not betraying the fear that seems to be circulating through my body instead of blood.

'Don't be so rude,' she turns back to her fellow Careers, 'how about we start with a nice bit of tongue? Put a stop to rudeness like that.'

Taking advantage of their momentary lapse of concentration, I grab one of my knives and heave it at the nearest Career; the boy from One. He goes down immediately but I don't wait to see if he gets up again; I am running as hard as I can back up the stream bed, away from the Careers and away from Sheb. My heart twangs, my breath comes in short, sharp gasps. Blood pounds in my ears.

I pass our cave and run on, my pack bumping heavily on my back. I briefly consider dropping it but before I can wriggle out of the straps, I fall heavily, skinning my palm and ripping a gaping hole in my trousers. I hear a shout of fury and anticipation from behind me and know that at least one of the Careers is following me. I drag myself to my feet and take off again. One quick glance over my shoulder tells me how close I am to being caught: Ruby, Viktor and the boy from Seven are closing in.

I jump a large gap between two boulders and dive into the conifer trees but the ground here is covered with a knee-deep layer of dried needles that is almost impossible to move through. I stagger and fall again but I scramble to my feet again and crawl on up the slope; the trees here are so close together that moving through them is almost impossible.

My hair catches on a low branch and I whimper out loud as I wrench it free as I push my way up the slope. I look back over my shoulder again and realise that this might be my one opportunity to escape; the Careers are all over twice my size and weight and they are finding it even harder to move through the thick forest. Even so, crashes and muffled oaths from behind tell me just how close they are to me.

My calf muscles are on fire… my throat feels like raw sandpaper... each breath rasps in and out, grating red-hot across my tongue. I can't go on… I must… My legs wobble dangerously as the ground levels out suddenly but somehow I manage to keep my feet. There's light ahead… the trees have ended… but… my steps falter and I groan out loud in my horror as I see exactly where I have come out.

A steep grey cliff rears up into the low-lying cloud bank above… I am trapped…

My muscles react instinctively as I hear approaching Careers just beyond the tree line and I fling myself at the rock face. There's no time to put any of the skills that I learned in the training centre into practice… no time to wish that there was a rope above me. Anyway, I'd rather die by falling than by the hands of the Careers. My bare fingertips explode with pain as they touch the freezing rock but I ignore the icy fire and pull myself onto the first ledge. My feet find two tiny holds and then I am off the ground, scrambling from hold to hold, my hands and feet moving in a frenzy. I am ten feet up when the Careers break the tree line.

'Come down little girl!' I ignore their frenzied shouts and continue climbing. I'm twenty feet up… thirty…

'Go on Oak, you're the best at climbing!' I glance down past my feet and my stomach contracts as I see that the boy from Seven has started up the cliff face after me and is gaining on me. I speed up, but a second cannon shot suddenly rings out over the valley and I lose my footing. I grab desperately at the rock... my stomach swoops sickeningly... my flailing feet scrabble frantically against the slippery face, my left foot coming into contact with a pinnacle of rock that breaks off suddenly. My right comes down on a safer ledge and I fall still, my heart still pounding in my ears, refusing to calm down and acknowledge the fact that I am not falling to my death.

I suddenly become aware of the noises from below and I look down, surprised to see that Oak is no longer climbing after me but in a heap on the ground. His fellow Careers surround him but even at this height I can tell that he is dying; I once saw a man fall out of one of the trees in the Orchards back at home. There's something about the uncontrollably twitching limbs that tells me that Oak's back is broken just like the District Eleven fruit picker's. It isn't until Ruby looks up and shakes her fist at me that I realise that I am responsible for his fall and responsible for another death; the spike of rock that I knocked off by mistake must've hit him on it's way down and knocked him from the cliff face.

I turn away as she starts shrieking insults at me, dancing up and down in a right little temper tantrum. My limbs unfreeze slowly and I start climbing again. I'm shaking all over with horror and fatigue and I wonder if my arms and legs will give out on me before I reach the top of this cliff.

Small tendrils of grey cloud reach me and soon I am surrounded and I shiver at its damp chill. My hands are so cold and stiff by now that I am in danger of falling with every move that I make. Luckily the cliff finally starts to become less steep and I push my aching limbs up this final hurdle and pull myself over the top of the cliff until I am lying, flat on my stomach, on the damp grass at the top.

It's some time before I move and then it's only to sit up. I peer out into the thick blanket of cloud that surrounds me; I can't tell how far up I am or how far to the sides this cliff extends which means that the Careers might yet find a way up to me. I shiver involuntarily and stagger to my feet, my knees trembling with fatigue. The tree line starts just behind me; a thick band of conifers, just like the ones below the cliff. Slowly, using my hands as much as my feet, I push myself under the cover of the trees.

It seems to take a long time for me to crest the hill, and when I finally make it the walking doesn't seem to get any easier due to the steepness of the slope. I suddenly lose my footing on the steep ground and my legs give way from under me and I find myself tumbling head over heals down the slope. Somewhere, in some deep recess of my numbed brain, I know that I ought to be terrified; if this slope ends in another cliff then I'm a goner for sure...

My decent is finally stopped by the thick trunk of an ancient, gnarled oak tree which has somehow managed to seed itself on the steep ground and prosper where it should never have been possible.

I don't bother to get to my feet again. Instead, I curl myself into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. My adrenaline rush is over I finally let the grief and despair wash over my head as the darkness consumes me.

Sheb…

* * *

Thanks for reading. Sorry about the long wait; I knew what happened in this chapter and I was putting it off.

**THE FALLEN**

Boy from One (Blaze)

Boy from Seven (Oak)

Boy from Eleven (Shebastin)

Maya doesn't know yet which tribute was killed in the night.


	17. Kerosene

**Kerosene**

I don't know how long I lie there. It might be hours, days or even weeks. The damp seeps into my bones and I shiver with the cold but I stay curled up, unable to summon the initiative to get my sleeping bag and tarpaulin out of my pack.

My legs ache from being curled in one position for so long but I ignore the pain and stay in a foetal position. It feels safe or rather safer than the alternative that is moving. If I move then I will fall and if I fall then I will never get up again. It is safer to lie still, poised treacherously on this knife edge above the bottomless drop.

Darkness pushes against my closed eyelids. The anthem rings in my ears but I don't open my eyes. I don't want to see his face staring down at me. Accusing me… I let him die. I tighten my hold on my knees and push myself into the damp earth, grounding myself. Although I can feel the cold earth beneath me, it still feels like I'm falling.

Something brushes my shoulder and I wake, almost dead with the cold. I finally open my eyes to see that the thin, grey light of dawn is pushing its way through the oak leaves above me. I look around and find the object that wakened me; a thin silvery parachute lies beside me. My hand reaches out instinctively and I untangle the object underneath, finally pulling free the small, square box. My numb fingers fumble with the lid, finally forcing it open. Inside is something small and silver. I know what it is before I even pull it free; Sheb's locket.

Automatically I prise open the stiff catch and pull the two halves apart. The two photos of my family that were inside are gone and two new photos are in their place. The first is a colour picture of Sheb, dressed smartly in his outfit for the tribute interview. This must've been taken by August or one of his prep team. But it's the second picture that makes me catch my breath; a tiny face with a haze of soft black hair and huge brown eyes peeps out of a pink crocheted blanket. Underneath, in an unfamiliar hand, someone has written:

_Maya Rose 'Rosie'_ _4lb 3oz_

Tears start in the corners of my eyes as I stare at the two pictures. Once I start crying, it is almost impossible to stop and it is hours later when I finally run out of tears. My fingertips trace over both photos, almost as if touch alone can bring them closer to me. As I stroke the picture of Sheb, I notice that the corner is loose and I pull it gently away from the thin silver band that holds it in place. Behind it is a small piece of folded paper. My fingers shake as I unfold it.

_Maya, if you are reading this then I am dead. There's not enough space to say everything that I need to. I love you and it was my choice. And now I want you to do something for me…_

My eyes fill with tears for a second time as I read Sheb's instructions. Once… twice… and finally a third time for luck. Then I snap the locket shut and pull it over my head. I have to be strong now. Once I am out of this arena, I can fall apart as much as I need to. But I have to get up. I have to do it for my sister and for little Rosie and for my father. But most of all I have to do it for Sheb. His handwritten message still floats before my eyes even though I've put the paper back inside the locket.

_…Get up. Eat. Drink. Get warm and dry. You will go home to Saffy, Dad and the baby. Live._

For the first time in about twenty four hours, I sit up. Slowly, I deal with my body's needs; I drink the contents of my water skin in small, shaky sips and slowly eat a can of beef stew without tasting it. Then I get to my feet and walk round the back of the tree to relieve myself. When I return, I sort through the contents of my pack: One first aid kit, my sleeping bag, one roll of tarpaulin, the bottle of fuel, half a box of matches and one can of food. I read the label without much interest and discover that it is chicken curry.

I briefly consider getting into the sleeping bag to warm myself up but I can't bear the thought of staying here any longer so I stuff everything haphazardly into the bag and get to my feet again; walking will warm me up. As I stand, my leg tangles with one of the knife sheaths at my waist and when I look down I am shocked to find that all four of the sheaths are empty. I lost one knife during my fight with the Careers and the others must've worked themselves loose during my wild decent. It makes me feel totally unprotected and vulnerable but one glance up at the hillside tells me that looking for them in the undergrowth is futile.

I walk; my legs moving automatically as I make my way down the slope and my mind whirring far ahead. Sheb is gone and I am alone in the arena but he is right; he gave his life for me and I can't waste that sacrifice. There can't be many of us left now. I count on my fingers as I walk. Me, Ruby, the boy from Two and one other. I must've missed the anthem last night so I still don't know who was killed that last night in the cave. For all I know, I also missed another cannon shot or perhaps several last night when I was so preoccupied. I shake my head in confusion; no, that's unlikely. I wasn't so wrapped up in my grief that I was totally dumb to my surroundings. Or was I? Have the two remaining Careers already turned on one another or are they still working together?

It's almost a surprise when the trees come to an abrupt end and I find myself back in the valley where the Games began. I am opposite the gold Cornucopia. From here, it looks like its mouth has been picked clean and I don't dare to get any closer because it will mean coming out of the cover of the trees. My eyes scan the valley for any signs of life but all is quiet… almost creepily quiet. There isn't any bird song or any wind and even the two streams flowing down from the circular lake have frozen up. It's as if the arena is taking a deep breath before the plunge; tonight something big will happen.

It's hard to shake off the feeling of ominous dread but I choose a large beech tree on the edge of the wood and climb up into its spreading branches. From here, I command a view of the entire valley and the sight is almost breath taking. There are no clouds and thin, cold sunlight shines down from a pale blue sky, refracting off the frozen lake and the streams in a brilliant burst of silver light. The ground, the trees and even the tumbledown buildings are covered with a shining blanket of frozen dew. The whole valley looks like it's been dipped in glitter.

Despite the thin sunlight, the weather is Arctic and it's getting colder by the minute; the arena is freezing hard. I can't help but wonder if this is part of the Gamemakers finale. Will this cold drive us together in some way?

I get myself settled in a three pronged fork between three thick branches and wriggle into my sleeping bag. I'm still only just warm enough and I briefly consider pulling the hood tight around my face for a few seconds to warm my raw cheeks although I'm hesitant because I know that this will make me blind to my surroundings. Even so, as the temperature continues to drop, the temptation is not one I am able to resist for very long.

I wake suddenly, not gradually but all of me at once, every nerve-ending in my body firing up in alarm. I pull the hood away from my face, my numb fingers scrabbling desperately with the tight cord. Once my head is free, the sound that woke me assaults me again. Someone is coming…

Shouts echo through the still valley, bouncing off the cliffs until I can't tell how many people the voices belong to or which direction they are coming from. I lie paralysed in my sleeping bag, gradually becoming aware of the sound of crashing undergrowth on the hillside above me as whoever it is nears my tree.

I crane forwards as the first person appears on the hillside above me. The rapidly falling dusk hides their features and it isn't until he is very close that I recognise Viktor. I am shocked to see that he is bleeding from multiple cuts across his face and torso but it isn't until he is almost directly below my tree that I see the true horror of his mutilation; one of his eye sockets is bloodied and empty and one of his ears is hanging from his head by a thin piece of sinew. The blood looks thick, dark and glutinous in the half light and I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. He doesn't see me frozen above him in the branches of the tree and he staggers past and out onto the open space beyond the tree line.

There's another wild shout and I spin round as the second person comes into view above me. I recognise Ruby almost immediately, mainly by her frenzied shouts and screams. Once again I freeze where I'm sitting; Ruby is as wily as a fox and I'm afraid that the slightest movement will alert her to my presence. I hold my breath as she passes under my tree. Like Viktor, she appears to be bloodied and limping but her face is drawn with anger rather than pain and she is still brandishing a dagger in one hand and an axe in the other.

Out on the plain, Viktor glances round as Ruby breaks the tree line. As he turns, his foot goes down a hole. The crack of bone breaking is audible even from here. He goes down immediately, clutching his ankle and screaming out loud. Ruby is on to him in seconds. I close my eyes as the scene unfolds in front of me but it's impossible to block out the screaming and the moaning. Eventually all I can hear are pitiful whimpers and Ruby's manic laughter.

A cannon shot finally rings out over the valley and I know that it's over. I open my eyes and look out in time to see Ruby's shadow turn and disappear into the rapidly falling dusk.

Although it's the last thing that I want to do, I slip out of my sleeping bag and quickly stuff it into my pack. I then climb down the tree and cross over to Viktor's body. I force myself to look at him as I pull off my gloves. I wipe the blood off his face and close his remaining eye. Finally I fold his hands across his chest.

'Bye Viktor.'

Although I know that it was his spear that killed Sheb, it's impossible to hate him now. When I look down at him, he is just another dead boy, killed at the hands of the Capitol. Before I leave him, I pick up his knife from the ground beside him and tuck it into my belt. I pull on my gloves again and rub my hands together, hoping that friction will restore some of the lost warmth and unfreeze my blood.

I don't turn back as I walk away; I don't want to see the hovercraft that lifts him out of the arena. When I reach my tree, I am surprised to see another silvery parachute lying on the floor at the base of the trunk. This time, the package is large and soft and when I pull open the plastic wrapping I am thrilled to see a body suit. I know before I put it on that it will fit me perfectly. I pull off my over trousers and my jacket, shuddering as the cold hits me, but pulling on the suit gives me instant relief.

'Thank you…' I whisper the words to the dark canopy above my head: For the first time in days my body is warm. Not too warm but just the right temperature. The clothing must've been engineered to give off heat. I wonder how long it will last; something like this must have a power source somewhere.

I climb up into the branches for a second time and position myself so that I can look out over the rapidly darkening valley. As the sky darkness to an inky black I suddenly find myself lamenting the loss of the night-vision glasses. This is the last night that I will spend in this arena. I can feel it in my bones. This is the finale, the climax that the Gamemakers have planned and a pair of night vision glasses would've been useful.

It's about two hours later when the flickering orange light of a small fire suddenly springs up about a mile away on the other side of the valley. For half a heartbeat I wonder if I should just ignore it but then an idea suddenly comes to me. As quiet as a shadow, I slip down to the ground for a second time and take off at a run across the silent valley. There's no time to be careful of the uneven ground but I am lucky; I fly across the rough grass, my feet barely touching it. I slow down as I reach the first stream. I jump down the bank and land with a crunch on the ice below. For half a second I think that I'm going through it but although I feel it give slightly, it seems to be baring my weight. With quick steps, I crunch across it and climb the bank on the other side.

I run past the Cornocopia which is gleaming eerily in the silvery moonlight. The second stream is easier to cross than the first because I reach it by a shingle beach. The ice here also seems to be stronger and it barely gives as I step onto it. Once I have climbed up the bank on the other side, I start running again. As I pass a dark lump that I think must be the remains of a cottage, I trip on piece of fallen masonry and come down hard. I gasp out loud as the stone digs into my knees but I stagger to my feet, ignoring the pain. I climb over a tumbledown dry stone wall, into the overgrown field on the other side. I look up at the firelight, pleased to see that it is still there. Time will tell whether it is Ruby or the other remaining tribute.

I know that the trees will hide the fire from me as soon as I am among them so I move down the valley until I am directly below the fire's orange glow before I enter the tree line. The ground here is steeper and I force myself to slow down, reminding myself that silence is just as important as speed. I lose sight of the light as I scramble up the slope but I continue in a straight line, trying to move as quietly and as quickly as possible through the trees. It's lucky that the conifers here are spaced widely and it gives me more than enough room to move between them. There's also a thick carpet of soft pine needles to muffle any noise that my footsteps make.

The light appears again as I climb over a small mound and it's only about a hundred meters away now. As I approach slowly I become aware of a slight change and it takes me a couple of seconds to realise that the trees around me are now oaks and I am walking on a bed of frozen oak leaves. It's hard for me to walk silently and I slow to a snail's pace until I reach the edge of the tiny glade with the fire in the centre. A shapeless lump beside the fire twitches as I approach and I freeze, still in the shadow of a huge oak tree.

The girl is wrapped tightly in a blanket so that only her face shows; a white oval with her eyes like two deep, sunken dark holes. Even from here I can see that she is shivering violently but it isn't until she turns her head fractionally that I recognise her; it isn't Ruby, it's the girl from Seven but she looks like a shell of the girl that I remember from the tribute interviews.

Silently thanking Seeder and Chaff for the heated body suit, I reach up the trunk of the tree until my hands find something to hold on to. I hoist myself off the ground, going by feel because it is too dark to see. I reach the spider web of branches and choose one that reaches out almost directly above the fire. The leaves rustle as I step onto it and I freeze, peering down at the girl below. She doesn't seem to notice, so I slide my other foot beside the first and lower myself until I am sitting astride the branch. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, I push myself out along the branch until I am above the girl. Then I slide my arms out of my pack and wait.

I don't have to wait long. I hear leaves crunching as someone approaches the fire at a run. The girl from Seven has fallen asleep but she jerks awake as Ruby barrels into the clearing. She tries to jump up to defend herself but her legs tangle in the blanket and she falls onto the ground, narrowly missing the fire. Ruby is onto her before she can stand again and although the girl tries to defend herself she seems to be sluggish from cold whereas Ruby 's strike is lightning fast.

This time there is no lingering torture; Ruby swings the axe, seemingly intending to decapitate her opponent but her aim falls short and her axe embeds itself in the poor girl's shoulder. The noise that the girl from Seven makes is almost inhuman… guttural and primordial and I shudder with combined horror and sympathy. She falls backwards, half into the fire pit and the axe is wrenched from Ruby's hand.

I stare down at her, paralysed on the branch above, and her eyes widen in surprise as they meet mine. As we stare at each other, I suddenly remember her name; Amber. Her face is drawn with pain but she manages a weak smile. Ruby takes a step forwards and the firelight bounces off the short, bloodied dagger that she holds in her hand.

'Any last words?' Her voice is almost pleasant.

'Do it…' And I know that she's talking to me rather than Ruby.

Almost automatically, my hands find the bottle of kerosene. As Ruby raises her dagger, I let out the breath I didn't even realise that I was holding in as a long, drawn out, sigh. Then I drop the bottle into the fire below and the world explodes. As I am blasted off the branch the faces of my family fly before my eyes before disappearing like tiny bubbles of champagne. My mother... Saffy... my father... little Rosie and finally Sheb...

* * *

Hope you enjoy. Please take a second to let me know what you think.

**THE FALLEN**

Boy from Two (Viktor)


	18. Fever dreams

**Fever dreams**

Pain. Pain everywhere. Agony. I try to scream but my lips are burnt away. My eyes won't open. They are fused shut and I am surrounded by a bottomless darkness. Falling… falling… I listen out for the rush of air past my ears but I hear nothing. I am deaf. Dumb. Alone. And then the relief comes. Morphling. Gently coursing through my arteries. Kissing my forehead with soft lips. Brushing across my broken body with a lover's caress. And this time the darkness welcomes me like an old friend.

* * *

_I am walking through the orchard. Soft moss squishes up through my bare toes and I wriggle them in pleasure. Bright shafts of sunlight penetrate through the dancing leaves above my head. I look up, confused to see that the branches are heavy with fruit. It was only planting season when I left. Have I really been away that long? I look around me for more clues about the season but I am momentarily diverted when I look down at my body and see that I am clothed in a soft, white dress. Bare legs and bare arms and I am _warm_. I smile and spin on the spot. I am warm. This is what it feels like to be warm. _

_'__Hey…' I sidestep away instinctively even though I recognise the voice and I know that I am safe. Rue stands behind me. She raises her hands in front of her body as if to pacify me and I smile sheepishly. 'You've been gone too long, Maya. So much has happened.'_

_'__I know…' She points away under the trees and I see three people approaching. I recognise them even before they are close enough to see their faces and I take a step backwards;. Sheb and Saffy… and the small person between them is the baby, baby Rosie, but she's grown up so much already. _

_'__Maya…' Sheb's says, as soon as they are in earshot._

_'__But you're dead…' I bite my lip in my confusion; half of me wants to cross the small distance between us and hug my brother but the other half of me is so confused. Sheb smiles as if he didn't hear me._

_'__Maya you have to wake up. You've slept for long enough. Wake up now.' My sister's voice is mellow. _

_'__But…?' She smiles reassuringly at me and hoists the baby up onto her hip. Rosie giggles and claps her hands together with pleasure. Her happiness is infectious and I smile through my confusion._

_'__You're dreaming Maya.' The smile slides off my face and tears suddenly cloud my vision at my brother's words and I rub savagely at my eyes. 'You need to wake up.'_

_'__If I wake up then you'll be dead and I'll be alone.' My voice sounds as small and wretched as I feel; even Rosie's continued giggles and chirps are unable to lighten my mood._

_'__I'll always be alive so long as the two of you remember me.' Sheb crosses the small distance between us and wipes a gentle finger under each of my leaking eyes. He then enfolds me in a tight hug and I bury my face in his jacket and inhale his familiar, woody scent._

_'__You won't be alone, Maya,' Rue says, stepping forwards and placing a gently hand on my shaking shoulder. I had almost forgotten that she was here. I turn to her and she hands me a hanky for my eyes. _

_'__I wanted you to have a chance to live, Maya. You can't waste away your life in a dream.' Sheb says firmly. He takes a small, firm step backwards and looks down at me and it's as if he is suddenly a very, very long way away. _

_'__Wake up, Maya!' Even at this distance, I can hear the laughter in his voice._

* * *

The soft yellow light assaults my eyes and I blink rapidly, trying to get a clear look at my surroundings. There's a strange smell in the air; clinical and antiseptic. It's so strong I can almost taste it on the tip of my tongue. Several machines beep and whirr in my ears. There's something soft and firm underneath my back and a soft coverlet lies snugly over my naked body.

My eyes finally focus and I find myself in a small room with no door or windows. It contains only my bed and a few machines. I try to sit up but there's a tight band around my middle and my hands are tied loosely to the bed. Why am I tied down? Panic sets in as I fight to get free and one of the machines registers the change in my heartbeat. The enhanced beeping does nothing to quell my fear.

I finally get myself free from the restraints but when I manage to sit up I realise that my left arm is encased in plaster from fingers to shoulder. I look down at my legs and pull off the thin blanket to see a similar cast on my right ankle. The sudden movement sends a sharp pain through my right arm and I look down to see several tubes snaking their way under my skin. One of them has come loose and the tip of the silver needle glows holly-bright with blood.

Time for the others to join it… I start to pull out the other needles, wincing as they slide out of my skin. I've detached all but the smallest when I suddenly feel something icy cold entering my arm. It isn't until my mind starts to grow foggy that I realise I am being drugged.

'No!' I pull wildly at the final needle, ripping it from my arm. Blood runs down into the palm of my hand. Woozily, I stagger to my feet, trying to keep my weight off my bad foot. I look around desperately at the bare walls, only now realising the futility of my escape attempt; there's no door and I am trapped… exactly… where… they… want… me…

My knees give out and the floor comes up to meet me as the drugs finally take effect.

* * *

_Darkness… thick, inky blackness that presses close, too close. I am drowning in darkness. It presses on my eyes and ears. It seeps through my mouth and nose. I hear a soft rustle behind me and I swing round, eyes and ears straining into the blackness. Something sharp pricks my arm… once… twice… three times… The needles have been reattached. As I struggle to pull myself free, the screaming begins. _

_At first it's far away but the more I struggle, the closer it gets until it reverberates through me. Every cell in my body trembles with every agonised shriek. My heart beats in time with it. My lungs shrivel to the size of walnuts as they pull in scream instead of air. Scream trickles through my arteries instead of blood. _

_Wake up… I have to wake up. I struggle against the smothering eiderdown of darkness but my flailing limbs find only the scream and the agony it represents._

_I open my own mouth and scream._

* * *

My eyes fly open again and I find myself back in the room. This time I am tied down so securely that fighting is having no effect whatsoever on the restraints. The plaster cast has gone from my arm and I assume the one on my foot is also gone although I am unable to move to confirm this theory and the blanket is back in place so I can't see. As I start to get panicked again, a portion of the wall slides back and a blonde Capitol slave enters, carrying a tray.

'Where am I?' She doesn't appear to hear my question and she places the tray across my thighs, before pressing a hidden button that raises the head of my bed until I am sitting up.

'Please! Why am I here?' For the first time since she entered the room, the girl looks at me.

'Why am I here?' She still doesn't speak but she reaches forward and places a soothing hand over one of mine.

'Please help me.' The girl nods gently and deftly unties one of my hands from the bed . She then hands me a spoon. It's only then that I understand; she is one of the Capitol slaves, one of the people that Syria told me not to talk to. I watch her leave the room and then look down at the tray across my legs; there's a small bowl of clear broth, a minuscule serving of stewed plums and finally a small glass of water. I suppose they don't want me overeating in case I throw up. I don't feel particularly hungry even though I must've been asleep for some time. I look back at my confined wrist and grimace when I see that the tubes are still attached; I must've been fed and hydrated intravenously.

As I stare at my arm, I suddenly realise that it isn't only the plaster cast that has gone; all of the scars and scrapes that I got in the arena have been healed, leaving only a few rapidly fading scars. My skin is perfect and glowing with health and even my fingernails have been filed to perfect ovals. I grimace; this is exactly like the Capitol. They enjoy watching us being mutilated and tortured but once the fun is over they can't relate to the victor until they have been turned back into a perfect, _whole_, human being once again.

I spoon up some of the broth but, all too soon, it becomes too much of an effort for not enough gain; the broth itself is palatable but plain by Capitol standards and I don't feel hungry enough to continue putting in the effort. I lean back on my pillow, exhausted but unwilling to give into sleep again. The choice, however, is soon taken out of my hands as I feel the icy cold sleep serum entering into my arm.

* * *

_I am back in the valley where the Games began and I am alone. There isn't enough wind to stir a candle flame and the sky is a clear, icy blue. Thin sunlight bounces off the golden Cornucopia beside me in an array of beauty. For the first time, I am close enough to see the intricacies in its ornate carving; it's as if the whole thing has been carved by hand. I briefly wonder whether there is a factory in District One, the luxury District, that is expressly for the production of Cornucopias for the Games. Nobody in the Capitol would put in the time, that's for sure. _

_I make my way slowly to the mouth of the horn to see if there is anything left that could be of use but the mouth has been picked clean. I stare at the bare earth, suddenly feeling the first prickles of unease; it's _too_ quiet and the silence is unnatural and oppressive. I turn to look back down the valley but I've barely taken two steps when the voice of Claudius Templesmith, the legendary Hunger Games' commentator, suddenly rings out around me. _

_'__Ladies and Gentlemen! We have had twenty three deaths and my but they've been good ones! But there is still one death left to watch.'_

_I look up at the sky in confusion because twenty three deaths must surely mean that I am the winner._

_'__Twenty three down, one to go. Miss Maya Stone!'_

_'__But I'm the only one left; I've won?' I tilt my head up and direct my question to the sky, anticipating the appearance of a hovercraft above me, a hovercraft that will carry me to safety._

_'__One death! We wait in anticipation, Maya Stone!' But it isn't until a dagger appears on the ground by my feet that I truly understand what is expected of me._

* * *

The circle is endless; I wake and eat the small portions of food they allow me. Then the drugs pull me under again and I enter a word of dreams that is sometimes terrifying and sometimes pleasant but always unexpected. Each time I wake, my scars have faded a bit more until I look almost as perfect as I did after the prep team prepared me for the tribute parade.

Then finally, I awake to find myself untied from the bed and unhitched from the many tubes. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, suddenly ill at ease with this apparent freedom. Gingerly, I slide my bottom off the bed, allowing my legs to take my weight a bit at a time; I don't want them to give out on me again.

I cross over to the panel of wall that I hope will open for me and it isn't until I reach it that I realise I am naked. I turn, hoping to find clothes, but I shrink away from the pile I see at the end of my bed; black cotton underwear, brown trousers, a sturdy black belt, a black top and finally a dark green jacket and matching over trousers.

They are sending me back into the arena.

I cower backwards until my back comes up against a cold wall. My trembling knees give out and I slide down until I am sitting on the floor. I pull my legs up under my chin and hug them, pressing my forehead into my knees. I will not go back into the arena. I will kill myself before I go back there.

Seeder finds me some time later. She cajoles me into putting on my outfit, reminding me that this is done at the end of every Games, simply for the victor to meet their prep team. Apparently I've already ruined the Capitol's 'live' reunion. I can't help but feel that I've started as I mean to go on.

* * *

Short chapter for you this time. I hope you enjoy it.


	19. Mutiny

**Mutiny**

Aelia Tiara, Chaff and Clio are waiting for us in a wide, airy lobby at the end of the corridor. There are no windows and I can tell that we're underground, possibly even further down than the gym, and this makes me feel claustrophobic. I try to smile as they greet me but the sight of two Capitol camera men, standing in the corners of the room has me shrinking away, still not wholly convinced that I am totally safe. I feel someone's hand on my shoulder and flinch away instinctively before realising that it's Seeder.

'Come on; your prep team is waiting.' She guides me down a couple of wide cream-coloured corridors and we take a lift up to the entrance hall and then another up to our old apartment on the eleventh floor. As the doors slide open, my prep team engulf me and this helps me to hide the wave of emotion that threatens to drown me; as I look around the familiar space, I can see Sheb walking down this corridor... lounging in the living room... sitting at the table.

The dining table is set with a gorgeous spread of food; roast chicken, chipolatas, vegetables in rich sauces, jugs of gravy and huge mounds of potatoes. Although the food should be a welcome sight after the tiny portions of slightly-tasteless broth and sauce that I've been allowed it actually makes me feel faintly nauseous. I sink down in my chair and allow Syria and Hero to help me to food. Their voices are non-stop as they discuss what they were doing at the time of each big event and I can't help but stare at Sheb's empty chair. The food is too rich and although my portions are still being strictly monitored, it suddenly becomes too much. I feel my breath quicken as my mouth fills with saliva. Every muscle in my body tenses and I lose my meal right there on the carpet.

I begin to apologise but they insist that it's fine and call an Avox to clean it up. An Avox turns out to be one of the silent Capitol slaves that I'm not allowed to talk to. Even though I know it's not allowed, I drop to my knees to help and whisper an apology to the red-haired girl. It must be awful to have to work for these people. In the Districts we get an illusion of freedom at the very least.

'That's not your job, sweetie,' Syria scolds lightly, pulling me to my feet. This irritates me but I am feeling too sick and shaky to bother thinking of a withering retort.

My prep team takes me to my bedroom and I am finally allowed to take off the arena outfit.

'Oh they did a full body polish on you,' Mairead says enviously as I step into the shower.

'They did?' I say, my voice uninterested.

I look at my reflection in the full length mirror and wince; yes, I look flawless but I am also so skinny that I look to be on the point of collapse. In fact, in my opinion, I look more like a corpse than a living, breathing human being. Apparently this fact doesn't go unnoticed by my prep team either and they lament the fact that Seeder, Chaff and Clio refused to let me have surgery to alter my skinniness and to put some meat back on my bones. I let their voices wash over me like the warm shower water, barely listening to what they have to say.

After the shower, my hair is styled and my nails are painted and minimal make-up is applied to my face. Then Clio enters holding my outfit; a silk dress with a pattern of wild-flowers, a matching headband and flat, strappy sandals made from a soft white leather. Although I am acutely aware of every touch, I feel somewhat detached from the situation, as if this is happening to someone else and not to me.

'Let's have a look at you,' I turn at Seeder's words, surprised to see how stunning she looks in a black cocktail dress and high heels. Maybe she has her own stylist somewhere, although I am not interested enough to ask. Chaff enters my bedroom behind her and I see that he had been forced into a suit. It's only then that the realisation hits; Chaff and Seeder will be introduced to the eager crowd and then… I swallow saliva, suddenly feeling nauseous again, despite my stomach being totally empty. This time I will face the crowd alone and without Sheb by my side.

'So, what's the brief this time?' I ask, as we leave my bedroom. Somehow I can't seem to get my voice to display any enthusiasm and the question comes out sounding bored and uninterested.

'Same as before,' Chaff says brightly. He belches loudly and alcohol fumes fill the air. 'You won't be asked anything today anyway. The interview isn't until tomorrow.'

'So be myself?' I clarify. Somehow this doesn't make me feel any better; I honestly don't know who I am any longer.

We take the lift down to the gym and then walk down a dimly lit corridor that leads off from the lobby and that I never noticed before despite being down here for the best part of a week during training. I am left alone, standing on a metal plate in a poorly lit area beneath the stage. The plate reminds me horribly of the one that transported me into the arena and I shudder and try to keep the rising memories at bay. My surroundings smell of oil and sawdust and darkness and it's hard to keep the panic at bay. Hard to remind myself to breathe slowly; my whole body is shaking and there doesn't seem to be enough oxygen in the air.

As soon as I am lifted to the stage, I will be on air for the entire population of Panem to see. I can't afford to go to pieces. This thought is swiftly replaced by another that has me stepping backwards off the plate in alarm; this isn't just an occasion to present me as the victor but also the time to watch the recap of the Games. I am totally unprepared for this; I'm not ready to watch the twenty three other tributes die. I am not ready to watch Sheb die. My heart-rate speeds up, thrumming in my throat as adrenaline sears through my arteries and veins. My surroundings start to tilt dangerously and I suddenly think that I'm going to pass out.

The anthem booms in my ears, reverberating through my entire body until my head is spinning and I feel week at the knees. I hear Caesar Flickerman warming up the audience and then my prep team is presented. I turn on the spot, looking for an escape route as the noise from above swells to an almost deafening pitch.

'Maya,' I turn to face the new threat only to find that Seeder has returned and is standing close behind me.

'I… I can't do it…' I stammer and then the panic and the anxiety overwhelm me and I burst into tears.

'Maya, you can do it,' Seeder's arms go around me and it only takes a couple of seconds for me to relax into her embrace; for the first time since I woke up in the hospital I don't feel alone. I have Seeder. 'You showed more courage and bravery in the arena than most people possess in their little finger. You only need a fraction of that now to step out there in front of the audience. It's nearly over now. Nearly time for us to go home.'

Home. I am going home. It seems as if this is a revelation but I must've known it somewhere, deep down, ever since I woke up in the hospital. I am going home to Saffy, Dad and the baby. I am going home without Sheb.

'Come on Maya.'

Seeder takes my hand and leads me on to the metal plate. I fully expect her to walk away again but she doesn't leave me. Instead, she does something that I've never seen before; she lets Chaff be introduced on his own and stays on the metal plate with me as it lifts me up to the stage. It's the first time that a victor has not entered the stage alone and I can sense the confusion in the audience even before I register that I have arrived on the stage. Blinding lights… the deafening roar of the crowd as they overcome their initial confusion and start applauding. I cling on to Seeder's hand feeling like it's the only thing that's tethering me to reality. It takes a good ten minutes for the crowd to quieten down enough for Caesar to make himself heard.

'Welcome Maya, welcome,' Caesar laughs good naturedly and steps forward to shake my hand and I am finally forced to let go of Seeder or appear rude.

After pumping my arm up and down a few times, he points me to the ornate chair near in the centre of the stage. I hesitate but then I feel Seeder pushing me gently and I take a step towards it.

It's time for the show.

I remember the time that I first realised it was possible to watch something without really seeing it: It was Christmas day and I was five years old. I was standing in the square, holding my mother's hand and watching a public whipping of a man, a father, who had hidden an orange in his overalls to give to his family. I remember listening to the whistle of the whip and the moans of the tortured man. I remember seeing the flecks of blood flying through the air, the taught muscles of his bloody and shredded back. And then I closed my eyes and ears to what was happening in front of me; if you stare hard in enough at something then it will eventually slide out of focus.

This is exactly what I do now; I close my eyes and ears to the big screen in front of me and I sit there, alone, unmoving, unblinking, until the lights go up at the end of the film. The anthem of Panem starts up for a second time and everyone gets to their feet. I don't realise why until the small, white haired, figure of President Snow appears beside me and by then it's too late for courtesies. There's a young boy, bedecked in the garishly pink suit that must be the latest Capitol fashion, behind him. He's carrying a cushion that holds a crown, a simple twist of gold.

President Snow steps forwards and I recoil slightly, locking my knees in place, ready to flee at a second's notice. Up close, he looks small and insignificant but looks can be deceiving and I am already acutely aware of the power that he holds. He smiles and I fight to keep myself still; it's the sort of smile that a snake gives its dinner before it strikes. But Snow simply reaches for the crown, before leaning forward and placing it on my head. It's far too big and tilts dangerously to one side, tweaking painfully on my ear until I am forced to reach up and right it. Then it simply slides down the other side. In the end, I have to give up, and I take the thing off. I don't want it anyway.

When the crowd has finally calmed down, my entire team is taken to the presidential mansion for the Victory Banquet. It's probably a good thing that I have little time to eat because I am feeling nauseous again and throwing up on Snow's carpet is not going to go down well with anyone. The sponsors who kept me alive in the arena push forwards and introduce themselves. I have my hand shaken, my arm punched playfully, I am hugged more times than I can count. Many of them want their photo taken with me against different backdrops so I am pulled around the mansion to their favoured place. Some of them want me to pretend to stab them with the fine dining cutlery, others want me to snarl. I feel like play-dough, moulded and shaped to their specifications, before being flattened and shaped again for the next person. I am numb. I do what they want without emotion. I feel as if I am staring down at the situation from above. This isn't me. I am simply watching another girl going through the motions.

I am exhausted by the time the party draws to a close. My cheeks ache from smiling and snarling for the photographs and my head throbs in time with the beat from the music. I must fall asleep in the car on the way back to the Tribute Centre because when I wake I am in my bed in my old room and sunlight is pouring in through the window, the thick glass refracting the light in a million bursts of colour. It's so beautiful that I stare at it for a long time.

'Up you get. You have a big day ahead of you!' Aelia; who else would sound so overly enthusiastic?

I groan and push my legs out of the bed. I don't bother getting dressed; someone removed my dress last night before putting me in my bed but I am still wearing the white under-dress. Anyway, Clio will dictate my look for the interview so their doesn't seem to be any point in putting on clothes just to take them off again in ten minutes time. When I enter the dining room, I see that the Capitol slaves are trying to please me; all of my favourite things are on the table. Fluffy pancakes, smothered with maple syrup and bacon, Madeira cake, croissants… I swallow down the memory of nausea and take a hot chocolate but I ignore the food.

'Try and eat something, Maya.' Seeder encourages, but I shake my head and nobody presses the point; maybe they're all afraid of me throwing up all over Caesar Flickerman or something.

My prep team descends. Syria pulls off my under-dress and Hero pushes the shower settings for me. I feel like a small child again, which is ironic since anyone who has lived through what I have must be ancient. After the shower, I am dried and my hair is braided tightly to my head, and make-up is applied to my face. Clio arrives with a new dress patterned with autumn leaves. The final touches are a headband of metallic orange and an amber bracelet.

'She's ready, she's beautiful!' I never saw Aelia arrive but she's standing in the doorway with Seeder. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm shows on my face because Seeder takes my arm and gives it a supportive squeeze just above the elbow.

'Last step on the way home, Maya.' Home. I focus on the thought of home as I walk into the living room to greet Caesar Flickerman.

Home. But how will it be home without my brother? Without my mother? Two of the most important people in my life have been ripped from my heart by the Capitol. The same Capitol who now want me to smile and laugh and say on camera, for the whole nation to hear, how grateful I am that I have won their sadistic Hunger Games. Suddenly I am furious. I will not play their Games any longer.

'Maya! Welcome welcome welcome!' I force a smile onto my face and shake Caesar's hand. 'So Maya, how does it feel to be the winner of the seventy third annual Hunger Games? And the youngest victor to boot?' Can he really be so clueless? How does he think it feels?

'It's horrible,' I snap, fighting to keep the aggression out of my voice; I intend to tell the truth but I know that I must be civil as I do it.

'Horrible?' A look of puzzled surprise flashes across Caesar's face. 'But you get to go home, Maya! How does that feel?'

'Yes, horrible, Caesar,' I repeat. 'My brother is dead. It won't feel like home without him, not now he's dead. I will never see him again. Never!' My voice rises and I fight against the tears that rise up into my throat.

'It must be awful.'

'Yes it is!' I snap, suddenly not caring about being civil any longer.

'But it was what he wanted, Maya? He wanted to die to protect you.' Caesar seems to be trying to put a positive spin on the whole situation and this irritates me exponentially.

'He didn't have a choice, Caesar. And I didn't have a choice either. The whole situation was so horrific that we did the only thing possible. How could we choose anything else in the face of such a tragedy? I could never have let Saffron and the baby experience those horrors and Sheb would never have let me experience them alone.' I don't broaden what I mean by 'horrors'. Let the Capitol believe I am talking only about the arena when actually I am talking about the situation.

I hear a slight sigh behind me at my words and I glance over my shoulder to see both Seeder and Chaff nodding in agreement at my words. Chaff gives me a small smile of encouragement and I understand that I am doing exactly what they wanted me to do.

'Right...' Caesar seems to grasp around for a new topic. 'Viktor killed your brother.' I nod, wondering where he is going with this. 'Were you pleased when Viktor was killed?' A wave of disgust sweeps through me at his words; was I pleased when Viktor was killed? I try to remember but its hard.

'I...' I hesitate, trying to think back. Everything is still a bit blurry, probably due to the concussion I received just after when I was blasted off the branch. 'At first I thought that I was but then...'

'Then...?' Caesar prods.

'Then I realised that he didn't have a choice either.' My voice drops to a whisper. 'He only did what he was forced to do. The same as me when I killed Calico and Blaze. You only get one option in the arena and it costs a lot.'

'Costs a lot?' Caesar leans forward, feigning interest.

'Yes, you have to murder innocent people. There isn't any other choice and it changes you. You don't come out of that arena the same person as you were when you went in.'

'So you… you got hurt a few times in the arena?' Caesar seems to be trying to change the subject again.

'Yes I got hurt by the Gamemakers' poisoned stinging nettles and Sheb got stung by their genetically engineered ants.' Turn it around. Turn it back to the Capitol and their disgusting Gamemakers.

'But you saved his life Maya. By pulling him into the bushes and drugging him with sleep syrup.'

'Only for four days, Caesar.' And although Caesar tries to turn the conversation back to the positive, I refuse to say another word until he wraps up the interview with a comment about my fragility. Finally the cameras click off.

Chaff and Seeder approach me and I am surprised when it's Chaff and not Seeder who hugs me tightly.

'Perfect,' he breathes in my ear, so low that nobody else could possibly hear. 'The perfect touch of rebellion.' And I finally understand what he means; he said something similar before the tribute interviews and I didn't understand. But now I think I do.

* * *

I go back to my room to fetch my things; the locket and Rue's good luck necklace. I don't bother to take a last look around the apartment before we leave; I never want to see the place again although I know that I will be forced to return next year and the year after that and the year after that. I am a mentor now and I will be forced to advise the tributes alongside Seeder and Chaff for the foreseeable future. The thought is repellent and I wonder briefly if I will be able to wriggle out of the responsibility seeing as District Eleven already have two mentors. Then I remember that up to four mentors are allowed per District for each Games and I know that this won't be allowed. I wonder which two kids I will be forced to send to their deaths.

I get into the lift with Seeder, Chaff and Aelia, who's job apparently doesn't end until I am safely home again. We fly downwards, further than the lobby because the City Circle is apparently still packed with Capitol citizens who are celebrating the Games. The thought makes my stomach contract with disgust. What do they have to celebrate? Instead we reach an underground car park where a posh car with darkened windows is waiting to take us to the train station.

On the train, I excuse myself and retire to my chambers. I slowly remove the clothing and accessories and then I go into the bathroom and stand under the shower for a very, very long time. I finally step out of it and turn off the water. I don't bother finding the button that will dry me but pick up a towel instead. When I am relatively dry, I walk into my bedroom and rummage through the drawers until I find a pair of simple cotton pajamas. I pull them on and collapse onto my bed, finally letting the tears fall as I cry for my brother, my mother and the girl from District Eleven who vanished as the Capitol eliminated almost everything she loved.

* * *

We have reached the end of Maya's journey in Ignite. I am thinking of writing a sequel if any of you are interested. If so, put me on author alert so you know when I put up the first chapter. Please review this chapter and let me know what you think.


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Six months later**

I wake suddenly, breathing heavily as if I have been running in a race. It was just a dream… I am safe... I look around my new bedroom, trying to find something familiar and comforting as I try to get my breathing under control. The room is a mess but I like it that way because it makes it seem more like mine; the huge dresser and the ornately carved wardrobe are so not _me_ and even the curtains and the carpet are impersonal. Although we've lived here for nearly six months it still doesn't feel like home. My father, Saff and the baby had already moved into this house when I got back from the Capitol. Victors' Village is a separate community, set apart from the rest of the District; twelve huge houses, built around a wide green, with a central fountain and several ornate flowerbeds. It's extravagant to the extreme especially when you compare it with the conditions faced by the rest of the District. I miss our old shack and our old life which doesn't make any sense because our lives back then were a daily struggle. Even so, I knew where I fitted in which is more than I do now. I feel like I am in a theatre production; I am performing for an audience and I don't quite know my lines.

I sit up, the last strands of the nightmare slipping away like water through my fingers. I glance at the clock on my bedside table and it's luminous hands tell me that it's just after half past four in the morning. It's still dark in my bedroom; the thick, heavy curtains block out the light very effectively but I know that the sun will be up outside. I won't get any more sleep now. This is the day that I've been dreading for months; the start of the Victory Tour.

I slide my feet out of bed, curling my toes up as they touch the soft carpet. I pad across to the door and pull it open and step out onto the landing. The door to my sister's room stands open a crack and I hear a faint gurgle from inside; baby Rosie must be awake. When I push open the door, she's sitting up in her cot. She giggles when she sees me and puts up her arms to be picked up. I cross over to her and stroke back her soft baby curls, immediately feeling less anxious and alone; my sister's presence always comforts me. She's curled on her side, facing away from the cot and the thin summer weight blanket has slipped off, exposing her shoulder and back. I lean over to pull it up again, although I know that she doesn't need it; the day is already warm and it's only going to get warmer. By six o'clock most of the District will be out in the fields gathering in the harvest.

A shaft of bright sunlight penetrates through a crack in the curtains, falling across Saff's face. She looks so much younger that nineteen when she's sleeping; her face looks so smooth and untroubled that I find myself staring at it, as if I am hoping to absorb some of her peace in preparation for later. I don't know how long I stand there but Rosie finally makes a quiet noise of discontent at my lack of attention and I turn to her.

'Shh, you'll wake Mummy up,' I scold quietly. I cross over to the curtain and twitch the material across so that the light doesn't bother my sister. Then I cross over to the cot and I pick Rosie up, kissing the top of her head as I press her warm weight against me. 'Come on Rosie; let's go outside.' I shift her weight onto my hip and carry her out into the hall and down the stairs. I pause by the curl in the bannister to slide my feet into a pair of leather sandals, balancing Rosie awkwardly as I stand on one foot. Then I pick up my violin case with my free hand and pull the strap over my free shoulder. Rosie chirps and claps her hands in excitement; she loves to hear me play.

Music is my talent. Every victor is supposed to have one. At first I was awkward, refusing every idea that Aelia suggested: I had no patience with sewing and no talent with cooking or painting. I hated flower arranging and I loathed dancing and my poetry turned out to be so appalling that even Aelia admitted that the Capitol citizens would find it hard to swallow. But then she sent a beautiful five stringed violin and although I very much wanted to find fault with it, as soon as I picked it up it was like an extension of my own arm. I loved it.

I place Rosie on the grass beside the fountain. She immediately goes to her hands and knees and starts rocking back and forth as if she's steeling herself to make the first advancement; she's so close to crawling now that she could do it any day. She'll probably do it while I'm away. The thought makes me strangely sad.

'Come on, show me that crawling.' I say lightly, as I remove the instrument from the crushed velvet interior of the case. Rosie giggles and rocks again, before sliding back onto her padded bottom and looking up expectantly. I smile at her and lift the instrument to my chin, picking up the horsehair bow and placing it on the strings. I take a deep breath in and then I break into a slow lament, something I wrote for Sheb when the hole in my heart felt so ragged that I could barely stand up straight. I follow it up with a fast paced jig, inspired by Rosie's first giggle. Then I sing her favourite song.

I feel so light and free that I forget what the rest of the day will have in store for me. I forget that this is the day that I have been dreading for months. I am lost in the music… this is one thing that the Capitol can never take from me.

* * *

Hope you enjoy.


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